Chapter 142 Lover boy
Chapter 142 Lover boy
Chapter 142: Lover boy
Claudia stood at the wide glass balcony, one hand resting on the cold railing, the other curled slowly into a fist. Beside her, Roy leaned casually, his posture relaxed, almost bored.
Below them, the mansion gates opened, and Coco stepped out of the car with her usual composed grace.
Claudia’s eyes narrowed.
“There,” she said quietly. “Look at her.”
Roy didn’t respond immediately. His gaze followed Coco for a brief second before drifting away, as though she was nothing more than another visitor.
“She’s been gone for hours,” Claudia continued. “She didn’t go shopping. She didn’t go to see friends. She went somewhere else.”
Roy sighed faintly. “And?”
“And she’s spying,” Claudia said, her tone sharpening. “She just gave out information. I know she did.”
Roy turned slightly to look at her. “You know?”
“Yes,” Claudia replied. “She’s too calm. Too confident. That’s the face she wears when she thinks she’s ahead.”
Roy gave a short, humorless laugh. “You’re overthinking.”
“I’m not,” Claudia snapped. “You always do this. You ignore things until they explode in your face.”
Roy straightened, irritation flickering across his expression. “Whatever Coco does is not my business.”
Claudia stared at him. “How can you say that? Everything she does affects you.”
“It doesn’t,” Roy said coldly. “Not anymore.”
Coco reached the mansion doors below, her heels clicking softly against the marble as she walked inside, unaware or pretending to be unaware of the eyes watching her from above.
“She’s playing you,” Claudia insisted. “And you’re letting her.”
Roy stepped away from the railing. “Let her play,” he said flatly. “Games end eventually.”
Claudia turned fully toward him. “So that’s it? You don’t care?”
Roy’s jaw tightened. “Care is expensive. I don’t waste it where it doesn’t matter. The only care I can afford is care for Coco.”
“You think she doesn’t matter?” Claudia asked.
“I think,” Roy replied, already walking toward the balcony doors, “that whatever Coco is doing is no longer my concern.”
He didn’t wait for her response. The glass door slid shut behind him, leaving Claudia alone with the fading sound of his footsteps.
She looked back down at the entrance where Coco had disappeared.
“This will end badly,” Claudia muttered to herself.
The kitchen was warm, glowing under soft lights. The scent of cream, garlic, and white wine lingered heavily in the air. Inna stood over the stove, stirring a pot slowly, methodically, her expression unreadable.
She tasted the sauce, frowned slightly, then added a pinch of salt.
Behind her, the door creaked open.
“So this is what you’re making now,” Tems said, stepping inside. “White dinner.”
Inna didn’t turn. “Roy likes it.”
Tems raised an eyebrow. “Funny. I thought you were Coco’s chef.”
Inna’s hand paused briefly before continuing to stir. “Things change.”
Tems walked closer, leaning against the counter. “You should remember what changed, Inna. You’re not Coco’s chef anymore. You’re Roy’s wife.”
Inna finally turned, her frown sharp. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?” Tems asked. “Like it’s real?”
“It’s not,” Inna replied firmly. “That wedding was fake.”
Tems studied her face. “Fake weddings still come with real consequences.”
Inna scoffed softly. “You’re reading too much into it.”
“Am I?” Tems crossed her arms. “You cook like you’re trying to impress him.”
“I cook because it’s my job,” Inna said. “And because I want to.”
“You want to,” Tems repeated. “Exactly.”
Inna turned back to the cooker. “Don’t start this.”
“I’m serious,” Tems said. “You shouldn’t be this invested. Roy isn’t pretending anymore.”
Inna shook her head. “You’re wrong.”
Tems stepped closer. “He looks at Coco differently now.”
“That’s because he knows she’s using him and he’s using her too,” Inna replied without hesitation. “Revenge doesn’t happen overnight.”
Tems frowned. “You really believe that?”
“Yes,” Inna said. “Roy never forgets. He never forgives. This is strategy.”
Tems was silent for a moment. “Or maybe he’s already moved past revenge.”
Inna let out a small laugh. “Roy doesn’t move past things. He buries them.”
“And what if Coco isn’t the one being buried?” Tems asked.
Inna’s stirring slowed. “You’re worrying for nothing.”
“I don’t think so,” Tems said quietly. “I don’t think he’s pretending anymore.”
Inna tasted the sauce again, then turned off the cooker. “Think whatever you want.”
Tems watched her. “You don’t see it because you don’t want to.”
Inna grabbed a towel, wiping her hands. “This conversation is pointless.”
Tems sighed. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Inna’s expression hardened. “I won’t.”
“You said the same thing before,” Tems replied.
Inna didn’t answer.
She turned back to the counter, plating the food with deliberate care, ignoring Tems completely. The clinking of cutlery filled the silence, heavy and unresolved.
Tems shook her head slowly. “One day, you’ll realize this wasn’t a game.”
Inna didn’t look at her. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
Tems lingered for a second longer, then turned and walked out.
Inna stood alone in the kitchen, staring at the plate in front of her. She tightened her grip on the spoon, then forced herself to breathe.
Whatever Roy was doing, whatever Coco thought she was winning, Inna told herself it didn’t matter.
She went back to cooking, pushing every thought aside as the pot simmered quietly.
And the kitchen returned to silence.