Mr. CEO, You Look Strangely Familiar

’But I can only keep these words bottled up inside. I can’t say them out loud.’

Every day, I’m either tied up or being watched.

Trying to escape is practically impossible.

Time flew by, day after day. Before she knew it, the New Year had arrived.

For the New Year, Silly’s parents made dumplings at home. Perhaps because they only got to eat them once a year, Silly was all smiles as he carried a steaming bowl over to her.

”Eat, eat!” he said, pointing at the dumplings in the bowl and clapping his hands.

Chloe Marshall didn’t stand on ceremony. Her hands were cuffed, which made eating very inconvenient, but she always insisted on feeding herself and not bothering anyone else.

Watching her eat, he sat there with a simple, happy smile on his face, looking exceptionally pleased.

As she was about to finish, she saw he was still sitting there and asked, ”Why aren’t you eating?”

He grinned. ”There’s no more, wifey. You eat up. I like watching you eat.”

Chloe Marshall paused. ”This was the only bowl?”

He nodded. ”I don’t really like these. I’m tired of eating meat.”

Chloe Marshall suddenly thrust the bowl, which still had a few dumplings left, into his arms. ”You’re eating them whether you like it or not. Finish these. I’m full.”

He took it and mumbled to himself, ”These are wifey’s leftovers. I’ll eat them so they don’t go to waste.”

He stuffed them into his mouth one after another until his cheeks were bulging.

”Slow down.”

He nodded emphatically, like he was pounding garlic. ”From now on, wifey, you have to eat a lot. That’ll make me happy.”

She was confused. ”Why would it make you happy if I eat a lot?”

”Because my mom said you need to be plump to have a baby.”

Chloe Marshall was mortified. ”Did your mom also tell you that if you get too fat, you won’t be able to give birth?”

He shook his head honestly. ”Wifey, where do babies come from? I asked my ma yesterday, and she just yelled at me, calling me a brat.”

She didn’t know how to answer that question either.

”They come from... the same place you came from when your mom gave birth to you, of course.”

”Then where did my ma give birth to me from?”

Chloe Marshall snapped, ”Hurry up and take the empty bowl away! Why do you have so many questions?”

He jumped, startled, and immediately stood up. ”Okay.”

As he left, he didn’t forget to add, ”Wifey, you’re so mean.”

Chloe Marshall misunderstood him. ”What the hell! Is having big boobs a crime now, too?!”

Watching him flee in a panic, she lay back down, her mind a murky mess.

**

Today was the first day of the Lunar New Year, and Quentin Grant arrived in Yarnia.

He first paid a visit to Walsh before driving to the manor.

If he hadn’t known Nora was here, he would have almost forgotten he’d ever bought the place.

’It seems buying this place is proving to be quite useful.’

He went inside, and the matron updated him on Nora Ainsworth’s recent condition. After listening, he nodded in satisfaction.

He asked, ”Where is she?”

”Taking a nap.”

”I see. You may go,” he said, turning to walk toward her quarters.

The afternoon sun was perfect.

He stood before the window, casting a long shadow on the ground.

He peered inside through the glass.

She was dressed in a maid’s uniform, her face covered by a white mask. She lay on the bed with her eyes tightly shut. Her face had gotten a little chubbier, and her cheeks were rosy.

For a moment, he was captivated by the sight.

He clasped his hands behind his back and turned to leave.

About ten minutes later, the matron came and woke Nora Ainsworth up. ”Amy, our Young Master has arrived. He’ll be staying for a few days. My old bones aren’t what they used to be, so you’ll be serving him during his stay.”

Nora Ainsworth sat up and stretched. ”Alright, Matron. You get some rest. I’m an expert at serving tea and water.”

The matron chuckled. ”An expert, you say? How many cups have you broken since you got here? You’d better be careful this time. If you offend the Young Master, you’ll be thrown out.”

Nora Ainsworth put on her shoes. ”Okay, Matron, don’t worry. I won’t be so clumsy.”

The matron nodded. ”Good. Follow me. It’s time to meet the Young Master.”

Nora Ainsworth followed behind her, carrying a tray with coffee to meet the boss of the manor.

They went up the stairs and stopped in front of the master bedroom. The matron said, ”Take the coffee in. I’ll head back down.”

Nora Ainsworth composed herself and knocked on the door.

”Come in.” The voice sounded vaguely familiar.

Nora Ainsworth didn’t think much of it, pushed the door open, and closed it behind her.

Keeping her head bowed, she didn’t dare to look up. ”Young Master, here is your coffee.”

Her deference was absolute.

Quentin Grant’s room was dim. The curtains were drawn, so the lighting was very poor.

”Bring it here.”

Nora Ainsworth grumbled internally. ’Don’t you have legs? Making me bring it over... do you want me to feed it to you, too?’

”What are you spacing out for? Hurry up.”