Chapter 12
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Robert Lynn, the old butler, rushed forward the moment Winifred appeared. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he gave a slight, trembling bow. “Ms. Yates, you’ve come home at last. Let me notify Mr. Chappell immediately.”
Winifred raised a hand to stop him. “Wait. Dad is still resting, right?”
Wiping away his tears, Robert nodded. “Yes, though he’ll wake soon. He never sleeps past six, not in all these years.”
Winifred’s gaze shifted to the clock–still an hour before six. “Then I’ll wait. Don’t disturb him. I’d like to prepare his breakfast this morning.”
Robert’s eyes widened. “Ms. Yates… you’re cooking for Mr. Chappell?”
+20
Winifred had never cooked anything in the Chappell residence—not even boiled water. The thought of her using kitchen tools now made his chest tighten. He couldn’t help but imagine what difficult experiences must have led to this change.
Truman frowned slightly. “We have chefs for that,” he reminded her.
But Winifred simply smiled, her expression softening. “I want to do this for Dad. I used to cook for Gregory… Now I’d rather spend that effort on people who truly matter.”
Truman’s expression darkened when he heard Winifred had cooked for Gregory. “Gregory made you cook for him?” he snapped. “Can’t he hire a maid? He doesn’t appreciate you at all.”
Winifred only offered a faint smile in response. It wasn’t that Gregory hadn’t hired help–but love made her want to cook for him herself.
She had once believed that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, so despite never having cooked before, she had learned for his sake.
She mastered dish after dish, each one delicious. Sometimes Gregory ate her food out of politeness, but no matter how skilled she became, his heart remained untouched.
Now, Winifred moved through the kitchen with practiced ease, preparing several breakfast dishes in no time. Each one looked and tasted exquisite, as if crafted by a master chef.
Bradley woke promptly at six. Robert, ever punctual, was already there, helping him into the clothes laid out the night before.
Bradley noticed Robert grinning broadly. “Did your son finally bring home a girlfriend?” he teased.
Robert’s smile faded slightly. “That boy is hopeless with women,” he muttered. “I’ve given up on him ever getting married.”
“So what’s put you in such a good mood?” Bradley asked as he finished dressing.
“Guess who–” Robert caught himself, his smirk returning. “We’ve got a new breakfast chef today, Mr. Chappell. You’re in for a treat.”
Bradley arched a brow. “All this excitement over a cook?” As he spoke, he stepped into the dining room where an array of unfamiliar dishes had been laid out. It came as a pleasant surprise.
Once Bradley was seated, Robert set a steaming bowl of oatmeal before him. “This one’s got a little something to warm you up from the inside. Please try it.”
Bradley took a spoonful and gave an approving nod. “Not bad.”
Then Robert slipped a ravioli onto his plate. “It’s stuffed with shrimp… and a few other ingredients. I can’t recall the rest, but trust me, it’s good,” he said with a chuckle.
Bradley took a bite of the ravioli. “This is better than what the last chef made,” he remarked, eyeing Robert suspiciously.
“Who’s this new cook? Some relative of yours?” The thought crossed Bradley’s mind that Robert might be trying to sneak a family member into the chef’s position.
Robert quickly raised his hands in denial. “No, not my family member. She’s-”
Winifred entered then, carrying a plate of sponge cake. “It’s me, Dad,” she said softly.
Bradley went completely still. There stood his daughter–the one who had disappeared three years ago. For a moment, he couldn’t process what he was seeing.
She set the sponge cake before him. “You always loved sponge cake, Dad. I made this specially for you. Won’t you try it?”
The shock wore off abruptly. Bradley’s eyes darted from the cake to his daughter’s face. Then his fist came down hard on the table. “Robert,” he roared. “Get her out of here. Who allowed her in?”
8:10 PM
