Tatum said, "Miss, you should drink it now. If you wait too long, it'll get cold." Elora took the bowl of soup and sipped it gracefully.

After finishing half the bowl, she set it down. "I'm a little drunk, but not completely. I can still walk on my own, and my mind is clear. I remember everything I did and said. Half a bowl is enough for me."

It was late, and she didn't want to drink too much liquid before bed.

"Tatum, whose daughter is your fiancée? Where is she? If you don't mind, can you tell me?" Elora was persistent. She had asked him before, but he never gave her a straight answer.

He always brushed it off, saying he wanted to focus on work first and that marriage wasn't urgent. He reminded her that he was still in his twenties-his older brother didn't marry until thirty. If he didn't find a wife this year, he could wait a little longer.

Elora suddenly felt a pang of jealousy toward his fiancée. She didn't have to do anything, yet she already had him.

She wondered what his fiancée had done to win his grandmother's favor, enough for her to personally arrange the match and give him a one-year deadline to win her over.

been working as her private chef for three months. That meant he had nine months left to

mind-keeping him as her chef indefinitely. If he was always by her side, cooking

the idea came, she dismissed

to be

maybe even felt something deeper for him. But that was because he was

need

to pursue his fiancée,

Unless...

pursuit, and declare that she was the one he loved. Then, she would fight

if he walked away from his

even met his fiancée yet. He hadn't started pursuing her. She might not even know she

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