In the evening, Altsin finally got to enjoy the fish soup he had been eagerly anticipating.

The soup was rich and aromatic, fresh without being fishy. Altsin took a sip and felt a lingering taste, nodding in satisfaction as he asked, “Did Ms. Bromley make this herself?”

Chelsea’s personal assistant, a straightforward girl, honestly replied, “No. I packed it from the Spanish restaurant downstairs.”

Facing Altsin’s questioning gaze, she added, “Ms. Bromley said she’s very busy and doesn’t have time to make fish soup.”

“…”

Altsin sighed inwardly, thinking she really was a cold and ruthless woman.

Suddenly, the soup lost its appeal, and he put down the bowl, wiping...