The aroma wafted through the packaging, all her favorite foods, and it made her mouth water. "Julian, you're personally bringing me food, so I definitely can't waste it."
She opened the box but suddenly remembered something and looked up at them: "Julian, Oliver, have you eaten?"
Julian Haworth patted her head like he used to when they were kids: "We've already eaten, just enjoy it yourself."
Violet Foote glanced at Julian's hand on her head but said nothing in the end.
The dining table was light-colored, with four or five takeout boxes on it, a balanced mix of meat, vegetables, and soup inside. In the middle stood an empty vase, into which Oliver Gale casually placed a lily he bought on the way.
With that single flower added, the previously barren room suddenly felt warm under the lights.
Julian couldn't hold back any longer and began to rant: "Violet, what's George Foote thinking? Why is he so eager to marry you off?"
Violet shrugged: "Who knows."
