Chapter 107 Don’t Covet My Meat

Chapter 107 Don’t Covet My Meat
The first thing Cora did after getting home was roll up her sleeves and head straight for the kitchen.
Everything she’d listed earlier was already laid out, prepped to perfection.

She washed her hands, picked up the knife, and soon the kitchen filled with the rhythmic clatter of chopping and sizzling.
From the living room, Julian could hear it. The sound alone lightened his steps.
For the first time in days, the heavy fog in his chest lifted.

Cora wasn’t a chef, but she’d lived on her own long enough to know her way around a stove.
Half an hour later, she carried out a small but complete dinner—simple, homemade, honest.

Julian glanced at the table. To anyone else, it was an unremarkable spread. To him, it smelled better than any Michelin meal.
The butler noted the rare brightness in his master’s eyes and wisely said nothing.

Cora, cheeks flushed from the kitchen heat, sat opposite him. “I only know how to make basic stuff. Don’t judge, okay? You’re used to gourmet dining and… well, I’m not that.”

Julian sniffed the air dramatically, face blank but chopsticks already moving. “Mm. As long as you know.”

He took a bite. And another.

Cora watched him expectantly.

Julian’s lips curved, but he deadpanned, “Terrible.”

Her expression fell instantly.
He nearly lost it laughing. Watching her sulk, small and indignant, was better than any dessert.

“Here,” he said, dropping a floret of broccoli into her bowl. “Your reward.”

Cora huffed but ate it obediently. Then she noticed—
Where’s my roast chicken?

She looked up. Julian’s plate was stacked with it.

Without a word, she dragged the rest of the chicken toward her.
Only one juicy piece remained when both their forks darted at once.

The butler wanted to die.
His cold, ruthless employer… arguing over poultry.

Cora glared, eyes blazing. “Mine.”
“I grabbed it first.” Julian raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. She’s adorable when she bristles.
“You already ate a whole plate!”

Julian chuckled, the sound low and unguarded. “Huh, your plate looks lighter than before.”

She glanced down instinctively—
and he snatched the last piece right out from under her.

When she looked up again, he was chewing smugly.

Cora narrowed her eyes and muttered, “Childish.”

A moment later, a fork appeared in front of her.
Julian was pushing his plate toward her, the meat returned. “Eat. You need more protein.”

Cora blinked.

He pretended to grimace. “Ugh, it’s awful. Take it all before I lose my appetite.”

The warmth behind the act melted her irritation. She took a bite and smiled despite herself.

In return, she scooped a baked shrimp from her dish and placed it in his.
Julian accepted it with an easy grin, ate it, and for the first time in weeks—finished two bowls of rice.

After dinner, Cora leaned back, satisfied but stuffed. “I need to walk this off,” she said, rising.

Julian set his napkin down and followed without a word.

She nearly told him he didn’t have to—but stopped herself. It had been days since they’d spent an evening without tension or sharp words. Why ruin it?

They walked side by side through the garden, two assistants trailing behind.

Winny, Cora’s personal aide, whispered to Austin, “Mr. and Mrs. Watson finally seem normal again. We were terrified last week—they looked ready to kill each other.”

Austin shrugged. “No idea what happened. Every time they’re alone, something explodes. But one thing’s clear—Mr. Watson takes her seriously. Keep her safe. That’s all that matters.”

Winny nodded. “It’s just—Mrs. Watson hates having people follow her around. I’m afraid I’ll get fired if she keeps sending me away.”

Austin’s tone dropped a notch. “If it ever comes to a choice, protect her first. Everything else is noise.”

Julian and Cora strolled ahead, the night breeze gentle. When her steps slowed, he spoke quietly. “If you’re tired, we can rest.”

“I’m fine,” she said, smiling. “Just… my stomach feels bigger lately. It’s like it grows every day.”

Julian’s gaze softened, dropping to her midsection. It had rounded slightly—just enough to be visible.
Months ago, the idea of this child had filled him with resentment.
Now, somehow, the thought steadied him. He almost… looked forward to it.

“I’ll clear my morning schedule tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll go in for your prenatal check.”

Cora blinked, surprised. “Okay.”

—

The next morning, Julian did exactly that.

He personally drove her to the hospital, where the staff treated the visit like a state ceremony—every reading double-checked, every detail verified.

Then, the doctor smiled wide. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Watson—it’s a boy!”

A boy.

Julian froze, then laughed—a rare, unguarded sound. A son.

Cora’s hand brushed her belly, her heart twisting in a strange, quiet awe.

By the time they stepped out of the exam room, the news had already reached the Watson matriarch.

“Cora, good girl!” Mrs. Watson swept in with half the household staff in tow, beaming brighter than the hospital lights. “You’ve done so well!”

“Grandma…” Cora faltered, overwhelmed by the sudden warmth.

Mrs. Watson grasped her hands, glowing. “You’ve worked hard, child. From now on, don’t worry about business. You’ll stay home and rest. Let Julian handle everything.”

Cora looked helplessly at her husband. Stay home? All day? Every day? I’ll go insane.

Julian caught the plea in her eyes and cleared his throat.
“Grandmother,” he said evenly, “Cora’s still early in her term. And the Watson–Mayer energy project signs the day after tomorrow. She’ll attend the celebration dinner. It’s already arranged.”