Chapter 59: She likes to eat when I feed her
[Inside the Bennett Living Area]
"I’m so glad you decided to come on such short notice, Daniel," Hugo said warmly, though the flicker in his eyes betrayed his unease.
Daniel’s reply was smooth, clipped, his voice carrying its usual weight. "I had to, Mr. Bennett. You insisted enough."
Hugo’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly covered it, nodding as though Daniel’s words hadn’t been a subtle jab.
"I hope my daughter isn’t causing you any trouble, son-in-law," Rosiline chimed in from the side, her smile polite, almost too polished.
Anna nearly snorted out loud. ’Trouble? Mom, it’s the other way around.’ She rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t stick in place.
Daniel’s lips curved faintly, amusement flickering in his gaze as he turned to Rosiline. "No, not at all. In fact, she’s been taking very good care of me... even cooking meals for me."
Anna’s head snapped toward him, her jaw almost dropping. ’What the hell is this man saying?’
Rosiline arched her brows, genuinely intrigued. "Cooking? That’s surprising. We never let Anna set foot in the kitchen, let alone hold a knife."
"I agree," Daniel said, his smirk deepening as his eyes briefly found Anna’s. "Even I was surprised when she prepared dinner for me. But... it was memorable."
Anna’s lips twitched, her fists curling into the side of her dress. ’Memorable? You mean nearly burned your tongue off!’
"Of course she has to," Hugo interjected, his tone suddenly sharper. "It’s her responsibility to keep her husband happy."
Anna’s eyes narrowed at her father’s words, the double edge in them striking her like a blade. He wasn’t just talking about meals. He was reminding her of her place.
Daniel’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers tapped once against the armrest, the only sign he’d registered the insult.
Rosiline, eager to smooth the air, quickly spoke again. "Then shall we conclude that you two are finally getting along?" Her gaze slid toward her daughter, a sweet smile plastered on her lips. "After all, I’ve heard so much about our son-in-law being... considerate toward Anna lately."
Anna froze, her smile cracking. Her heart lurched into her throat.
Her mind replayed the conversation from the other day, when she’d lied through her teeth—telling her mother that Daniel approved of her acting dream.
A bead of sweat formed at her temple as her palms grew clammy. Slowly, she darted a glance at Hugo.
But... nothing. He sat there, sipping his drink, expression unreadable.
Relief washed over her like cool water. If her father had known, he’d have exploded already.
’So I was right. Mom didn’t tell him.’
Her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and the corners of her lips curved into a smile—small, but victorious.
"But there is one thing that upsets me," Daniel’s voice suddenly cut through, snatching the small victory smile right off Anna’s face.
Her head jerked toward him, heart stuttering. What is he saying now?
"What happened, son-in-law? Did our Anna upset you?" Rosiline asked quickly, her voice anxious, her eyes flicking between them.
Hugo’s expression hardened instantly. "Anna—what did you do this time?" he snapped, his glare locking on her like a blade.
Anna froze, fumbling for words. "D-Dad, I don’t know what—"
But her protest died the moment Daniel interrupted, his voice calm, his expression unreadable.
"I wasn’t finished, Mr. Bennett. And I’d prefer you not question my wife as if she were a child being scolded."
The room shifted. Hugo’s lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of Daniel’s words forcing him silent. Rosiline swallowed hard, her knuckles whitening against her lap.
"Forgive us for interrupting, son-in-law," Rosiline managed, bowing her head slightly, her tone drenched in nervous apology.
Daniel didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his gaze lingered on Anna—deep, unreadable, and yet edged with something that unsettled her even more than his words. She fidgeted under his stare, her chest tightening. If he hadn’t seen how she flinched at her father’s voice, perhaps he wouldn’t have guessed at the cracks in their so-called perfect family.
Finally, Daniel leaned back, his voice smooth, almost casual, though the undertone was enough to pin everyone in place.
"What I mean to say is... what truly bothers me is that I haven’t been able to appreciate her enough."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Anna’s lips parted in disbelief, her pulse racing. ’What kind of twisted game is he playing now?’
Rosiline blinked rapidly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Hugo, for the first time that evening, seemed at a loss for words.
And Anna sat frozen, her mind screaming at her to breathe.
"You don’t have to worry about that, Daniel. Our Anna isn’t hard to please," Hugo chuckled awkwardly, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the living hall.
Daniel’s lips curved faintly, though his voice dropped just low enough for only Anna to hear. "I don’t think so."
Her breath hitched. The mischievous glint in his eyes as they lingered on her made it clear—his words weren’t for her parents, they were for her. A private jab, disguised in innocence.
"Dad, Mom," Anna cut in sharply, forcing a brittle smile. "If you’ve finished interrogating us, can we just have our dinner?" She was tired—tired of the tension, tired of her father’s biting remarks, and most of all, tired of Daniel twisting everything into a game that left her flustered.
"Hahaha... of course," Rosiline said quickly, standing as if eager to dissolve the atmosphere. "Come, let’s head to the dining area."
The family rose, but as they made their way to the table, Anna couldn’t shake the weight of Daniel’s gaze trailing after her—steady, unrelenting, and far too amused for her liking.
***
[At the Dining Hall]
Both Hugo and Rosiline exchanged a glance before shifting their eyes toward the couple. The sight before them was almost too much to process—Daniel Clafford, the man known for his cold, untouchable demeanor, was actually filling Anna’s plate with food. Their lips curled upward ever so slightly, as if watching something they had long hoped for but never expected to see.
Anna, on the other hand, was utterly horrified. Her fork nearly slipped from her fingers. She darted a look at her parents, who were staring in disbelief, and quickly stomped on Daniel’s foot beneath the table.
"Don’t you dare say a word," she hissed under her breath, forcing a bright smile when she noticed Rosiline narrowing her brows in suspicion.
"What do you think you’re doing?" she whispered fiercely, her teeth clenched behind the smile plastered on her face.
Daniel turned his head, his expression maddeningly calm. Then, his eyes flicked to the two people seated across from them. His lips curved, and before Anna could brace herself, he said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Ah, she likes it when I feed her."
Anna choked on her own breath, her jaw practically hitting the table. Across from them, Rosiline’s eyes widened while Hugo’s fork paused mid-air.
Daniel, utterly unbothered, turned back to his wife with a small, knowing smile. And before Anna could stop him, he lifted another bite of food to her lips. "Eat more," he urged smoothly, his tone dripping with amusement.
Rosiline’s lips twitched, struggling between disbelief and delight, but eventually she looked at her husband with an expression of quiet satisfaction. Hugo, for once, didn’t argue. Instead, he gave a small, approving nod, as if both of them had silently agreed that everything was finally turning out the way they wanted.
The dinner concluded without further incident, and soon Daniel and Anna were on their way out of the mansion.
Back inside, in the quiet of their bedroom, Hugo and Rosiline finally let out a long sigh of relief.
"I’m glad Anna isn’t causing any trouble," Rosiline said softly, her voice tinged with hope. "And as for Daniel—he seems to like her."
Hugo nodded, though his gaze was faraway, heavy with calculation. "I just hope things work out in our favor before we pull our cards."
Rosiline’s lips curved faintly. She understood exactly what he meant. "It will," she replied with quiet conviction.