Chapter 10: Eating Together
Cora didn’t like this man.
But she couldn’t deny the obvious—Julian Watson was stunning. Even the smallest gestures carried a kind of effortless grace that made it hard to look away.
A maid handed her a warm towel. Cora wiped her hands quickly and gave it back.
Another servant waited, just as they did with Julian, until she’d used a second towel before pulling out her chair for her.
She sat across from him, hesitating. “You… you didn’t have to come.”
Julian dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “The moment I decided to marry you, this became my duty.”
Cora understood exactly what he meant.
She lowered her eyes and said nothing, quietly eating from the dishes the chefs had placed in front of her.
Julian’s gaze flicked over. “You’ve had enough salmon.”
At once, a chef stepped forward and removed the plate.
Cora almost laughed. “You’re going to control what I eat too?”
“I’m controlling what goes into my child,” Julian said flatly. Then, without looking up, “Bring the ginseng soup.”
She opened her mouth to say she didn’t need it when her phone rang.
Seeing the caller ID, a flash of sadness crossed her eyes.
She flipped the phone over, screen down, silencing it.
“Why not answer?” Julian asked.
“Just someone unimportant,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on her plate.
Unimportant? Yet her expression had gone so bleak.
Julian looked at her for a long moment but said nothing.
They ate in silence.
After the meal, Julian rose and left.
When the chefs cleared the dishes, Cora finally picked up her phone.
Several missed calls.
Staring at the familiar name on the screen, her heart twisted painfully.
Since that night, she hadn’t answered a single call from Matt, hadn’t replied to a single message.
Her silence couldn’t be clearer.
Why didn’t he give up? Why keep calling, telling her about foreign cities as if nothing had changed?
Hadn’t he suspected by now?
Sometimes she wished he’d disappear, too—then maybe her guilt would be easier.
But for two months, like clockwork, he’d called and texted every day.
She could only watch his messages pile up and feel her heart splinter further.
⸻
That evening, Julian returned, as usual, with a small army of chefs and trays of food.
Cora’s appetite was gone.
Julian noticed. “Food not to your taste?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m just not hungry.”
His brows drew together. He extended a hand. Instantly, someone placed a delicate porcelain bowl in his palm.
He scooped up a spoonful of bird’s nest soup and held it out to her.
Cora blinked. She hadn’t expected him to feed her himself.
“The child can’t be at risk. Eat.”
The command shattered any illusion of tenderness.
She wanted to refuse.
But she had no right to refuse anything now.
So she opened her mouth and took the spoonful.
The chefs at the side nearly dropped their utensils.
Mr. Watson, personally feeding a woman?
It was unprecedented.
The young madam must really matter to him, they thought.
Cora took two bites—then her stomach lurched.
Covering her mouth, she pushed back her chair and ran to the bathroom.
Water flushed.
Julian’s brow tightened. When she emerged pale-faced, he spoke in a low, hard voice.
“If you can’t eat for yourself, then eat for the child. Do you want it to suffer with you?”
Cora glanced at him, saw he wasn’t joking, and silently took the bowl.
She forced it down, spoon by spoon, fighting the nausea.
What is this stuff? she thought bitterly. How can rich people eat something so disgusting and call it a delicacy?
When she finished, Julian’s expression softened—just slightly.
The chefs exchanged glances, some discreetly wiping their eyes.
God. Mr. Watson smiled.
⸻
For days afterward, Julian came to the hospital to eat with her.
Only then did Cora learn the truth—he was there under the chairwoman’s orders.
She gave a small, bitter smile. Of course.
They were thrown together by a mistake. There was no real affection.
Why would he voluntarily come and endure her morning sickness?
She stared at the untouched dishes, fighting nausea again.
Even hearing herself retch must disgust him.