Evangeline noticed the subtle shift in his gaze. He didn’t look like a dinner guest–he looked like he’d shown up just to cause trouble. 

She was sure she hadn’t provoked him recently. 

Even the last time at the amusement park, when she’d run into Poppy, she’d quietly stepped aside and let her have the spot. 

Since finalizing the divorce, Evangeline was certain she hadn’t done anything to upset either of them. 

She couldn’t figure out Soren’s motive for this little performance. 

Was he really just here for dinner? Or did he want to boss her around again? 

Her mind raced, searching for a reasonable explanation, but came up empty. 

Whatever his reason, Soren was clearly determined. 

She tamped down her irritation. 

Fine. She’d play along. 

“Eat your dinner and go,” Evangeline said flatly. 

It wasn’t subtle; she was clearly asking him to leave. But to her surprise, Soren didn’t seem the least bit offended. 

In the past, Evangeline had always treated him with gentle courtesy. Even if she was angry, she’d hide it behind a polite smile. The act had always set his nerves on edge. 

But now, with her sulky expression out in the open, he found it oddly endearing. 

When he didn’t respond, Evangeline grabbed the groceries and retreated to the kitchen. 

Some ingredients would have been a pain to prepare, especially in her cramped rental. She settled for a bag of shrimp and some chicken breast–simple enough. She whipped up two quick stir–fries. 

By the time she finished, the two vegetable dishes she’d made earlier had already gone cold. 

Her stomach growled; she couldn’t be bothered to reheat anything. They could eat 

as it was. 

Chapter 146 

Soren took a bite and frowned slightly. 

That night at the villa, he’d chalked up the meal’s taste to his own hunger. But now, tasting her cooking again, he realized it was exactly the same as what he’d had at the Whitmore estate. 

Except he’d always thought Macy had been the one cooking back then. 

He remembered those strange–tasting dishes Macy made afterward. Suspicion stirred. 

here’d 

you learn to cook?” he asked. “From Macy?” 

Evangeline assumed he was making small talk and didn’t bother replying. 

Her mother had taught her everything she knew about cooking. 

She’d grown up pampered, never lifting a finger in the kitchen. But after her engagement was arranged, her mother insisted she learn. “If you want to win a man’s heart, you have to win over his appetite first,” her mother used to say. 

She’d objected, half–joking, “If it’s just about his appetite, couldn’t I just hire a great chef?” 

But in the end, she learned, mostly because her mother had gotten genuinely angry–something Evangeline had never seen before. 

Later, her mother sat her down and explained, “You and Soren don’t like the same food. If the chef only tries to please him, you’ll always be eating things you hate. If you know how to cook, you can make what you love. You’ll suffer less.” 

Back then, Evangeline hadn’t understood. 

I 

It wasn’t until her mother passed away, and things soured with the Whitmore family, and she became a ghost in the Fawkes household, unable to find a single dish she actually enjoyed, that she finally understood her mother’s intent. 

When she didn’t answer, Soren lost interest in the conversation. 

The rest of dinner passed in near silence. 

Evangeline just wanted him to finish eating and leave. 

But when they were done, Soren showed no sign of getting up. 

She went to clean the dishes in the kitchen. 

Soren sprawled on the sofa, laptop open, working on something she couldn’t see. 

Chapter 146 

Chapter 146 

Evangeline noticed the subtle shift in his gaze. He didn’t look like a dinner guest–he looked like he’d shown up just to cause trouble. 

She was sure she hadn’t provoked him recently. 

Even the last time at the amusement park, when she’d run into Poppy, she’d quietly stepped aside and let her have the spot. 

Since finalizing the divorce, Evangeline was certain she hadn’t done anything to upset either of them.. 

She couldn’t figure out Soren’s motive for this little performance. 

Was he really just here for dinner? Or did he want to boss her around again? 

Her mind raced, searching for a reasonable explanation, but came up empty. 

Whatever his reason, Soren was clearly determined. 

She tamped down her irritation. 

Fine. She’d play along. 

“Eat your dinner and go, Evangeline said flatly. 

It wasn’t subtle; she was clearly asking him to leave. But to her surprise, Soren didn’t seem the least bit offended. 

In the past, Evangeline had always treated him with gentle courtesy. Even if she was angry, she’d hide it behind a polite smile. The act had always set his nerves on edge. 

But now, with her sulky expression out in the open, he found it oddly endearing. 

When he didn’t respond, Evangeline grabbed the groceries and retreated to the kitchen. 

Some ingredients would have been a pain to prepare, especially in her cramped rental. She settled for a bag of shrimp and some chicken breast–simple enough. She whipped up two quick stir–fries. 

By the time she finished, the two vegetable dishes she’d made earlier had already gone cold. 

Her stomach growled; she couldn’t be bothered to reheat anything. They could eat as it was. 

1/3 

Soren took a bite and frowned slightly. 

That night at the villa, he’d chalked up the meal’s taste to his own hunger. But now, tasting her cooking again, he realized it was exactly the same as what he’d had at the Whitmore estate. 

Except he’d always thought Macy had been the one cooking back then. 

He remembered those strange–tasting dishes Macy made afterward. Suspicion stirred. 

“Where’d you learn to cook?” he asked. “From Macy?” 

Evangeline assumed he was making small talk and didn’t bother replying. 

Her mother had taught her everything she knew about cooking. 

She’d grown up pampered, never lifting a finger in the kitchen. But after her engagement was arranged, her mother insisted she learn. “If you want to win a man’s heart, you have to win over his appetite first,” her mother used to say. 

She’d objected, half–joking, “If it’s just about his appetite, couldn’t I just hire a great chef?” 

But in the end, she learned, mostly because her mother had gotten genuinely angry–something Evangeline had never seen before. 

Later, her mother sat her down and explained, “You and Soren don’t like the same food. If the chef only tries to please him, you’ll always be eating things you hate. If you know how to cook, you can make what you love. You’ll suffer less.” 

Back then, Evangeline hadn’t understood. 

It wasn’t until her mother passed away, and things soured with the Whitmore family, and she became a ghost in the Fawkes household, unable to find a single dish she actually enjoyed, that she finally understood her mother’s intent. 

When she didn’t answer, Soren lost interest in the conversation. 

The rest of dinner passed in near silence. 

Evangeline just wanted him to finish eating and leave. 

But when they were done, Soren showed no sign of getting up. 

She went to clean the dishes in the kitchen. 

Soren sprawled on the sofa, laptop open, working on something she couldn’t see. 

2/3 

When she came back out, he’d switched to watching the financial news as if he owned the place. 

She checked the time. “You should go.” 

Soren glanced up, lazy and unconcerned. She was serious–she really wanted him. gone. 

Funny, he thought. She used to do everything she could to keep him around. Now that he’d decided to stay, she couldn’t wait for him to leave.