When Stella did not respond, Evan tightened his arms around her.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I’m hungry,” Stella said.
She had barely eaten that morning, and she genuinely was hungry now.
“Then let’s eat first.”
Evan was relieved to hear her say that.
Ever since arriving in Seaborne, she had barely seemed able to eat.
Even when she did, she only managed a few bites.
At lunch, Evan had ordered the staff to prepare all the dishes he remembered Stella enjoying back in Harbor City.
Stella’s gaze deepened when she saw the spread.
“These are all your favorites,” Evan said. “Try the chicken dish. See if it tastes like the version you used to have in Harbor City.”
He placed a piece of chicken in her bowl.
Stella looked down at it without speaking or touching it.
“What’s wrong?” Evan asked softly.
His voice was gentler than ever.
“These are your mother’s favorite dishes,” Stella said. “I never ate any of them at Inkwood.”
Evan froze.
What did she mean?
“Everything on this table is something I ate at the Wright estate because I had no other choice.”
None of these dishes were truly her favorites.
Whenever the family gathered for a meal, the menu was always based on what the Wrights liked.
Most of it did not suit Stella’s taste.
She had simply chosen whichever dish she could tolerate.
And Evan had assumed those were the foods she liked.
They had dated and been married for years.
Yet Evan had apparently never known what she actually enjoyed eating.
His entire body went rigid.
“Then what do you like?” he asked. “Are you saying none of these are your favorites?”
Not one dish on the table?
Stella looked at him without answering.


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