Mr. Ford Is Jealous

Chapter 162 

Stella quickly squashed the crazy idea. She couldn’t possibly put Roger in a position where his only living relative was a criminal. 

The clinking and clanking noise arose from the kitchen when Stella started cooking. Weston was sitting on the sofa in the living room. The news was playing on the television, but he wasn’t paying any attention to that. He was more interested in the noise that came from the kitchen. 

Weston realized that he had always taken all these little details for granted in the past. He wondered how many precious moments he’d lost forever. 

Stella did not put as much thought into the cooking as she did in the past, because she no . longer had any interest to please Weston. All she wanted to do now was complete a chore that she was assigned. With that, she made a bowl of very simple chicken noodle soup and brought it out to the table. She noticed that it was looking a little too plain, so she quickly chopped up some scallions and garnished it on the soup. The little green bits on top made it look much more appetizing, though it was still plain to see that not a lot of effort was put into the making of this soup. 

out to the table, Weston himself just came out of the shower. He’d changed into more comfortable clothes. The gray t shirt softened his usually intimidating aura significantly, but his dark eyes were still as icy and piercing as always, the pitch blackness of his pupils was like a stonewall

she told him. “There’s no rush,” he replied, glancing at the bowl of

say? Resigned to her fate, she went to stand behind him and

between their heights, so even as Weston was sitting down while Stella was standing up, he still managed to stir a

Weston was Roger. Weston could sense her unwillingness, but he let her shove his head this way and that

her way in the mansion very well, not just where the rooms were, but down to even where

loved seeing the whole place in spick -and-span condition. She also loved seeing her little personal touches everywhere around the house. She remembered how happy she used to be here and it broke her heart. Every familiar corner was like a little blade that cut through her heart, reminding her of how foolish she had been

her go and start eating When he finally turned his attention to the soup, he stared at the plain bowl of chicken noodle soup and frowned. “I hate scallions,”