Greta and Cameron made their way back to the Brown family estate and Back and
even went the extra mile to freshen up Patrick, who was bedridden, making how to avalynesie aforesaing ins wheelchair and rolling him down to the grand hal
When Patrick laid eyes on Greta, a strange smile spread across is gunt fc* Where
sinister edge. Rather than showing the expected surprise, Greta wore a look of
Nathalie voiced what Grets was likely thinking “Oh, Dad, what happened to you Even Greta purged when she saw y
Patrick, hearing Nathalie’s voice, turned to her with a look of horror “What are you doing for?
Nathalie had claimed the center spot on the sofa, a place Patrick had always reserved from a war fewe Nathalie with all the authority of a family patriarch Nathalie imitated hem crossed her legs, and eyed Bank stes spid you’re in pretty bad shape. You have high blood pressure, diabetes, and heart disease One wrong me and pai ble. I didn’t want to miss my chance to be the dutiful daughter, so I decided to move back and keep you company Patrick’s face was a mask of terror Memories of his time in prison flooded back, wens he was formented by the the dog, we at Nathalie had specifically asked him to look after Patrick
Look after him he did. Patrick became paralyzed in the end.
Nathalie was a devil incarnate.
“I don’t need your care. Get out,” Patrick bellowed, his voice echoing through the hall
Nathalie, unruffled, replied, “I’m not going anywhere. This family owes me too much. Until I’m repaid, I’m staying po
Greta turned white as a sheet.
Patrick erupted, “What does this family owe you?”
“Oh, where do I start?”
As realization hit, Patrick’s face turned beet red. He barked at Miranda, “Just pretend she’s not here. Don’t make her any food. Let her fend for herself.”
Nathalie chuckled. “I’ve always been self–sufficient. I don’t need anyone waiting on me. Besides, this family has a mix of paralysis and incompetence. Who should be the one being taken care of?
Patrick could barely breathe, his anger suffocating him.
After she had said her piece, Nathalie strolled into the kitchen. She whipped up a simple dish of spaghetti aglio e clic, picking the finest seafood and eggs from the fridge. She then crafted a sauce that sat atop her pasta, making it lock absolutely irresistible.
Meanwhile, Greta and the others exchanged awkward glances.
Patrick was paralyzed and obviously couldn’t handle any housework.
Miranda was partially paralyzed and could maneuver her wheelchair, but Nathalie had pampered her, so her kitchen skills had withered away. Asking her to cook for the whole family was indeed a stretch.
Greta was delicate and lazy. She had never cooked a meal in her life.
Cameron was the typical idle rich kid who probably couldn’t tell soy sauce from vinegar
Finally, Patrick decreed, “Miranda, go make somethingt.”
Miranda hesitated, her eyes betraying a hint of hurt and reluctance. But with no one to back her up, she trudged to the kitchen alone. Nathalie watched Miranda and smirked. “I used to treat you like royalty. I never let you do any housework. Now look at you. You’re less than a servant without me. You’re half–paralyzed and can’t even enjoy a meal cooked by your precious daughter.”
Though Miranda’s face remained stoic, inside, she felt the sting of disparity. “Greta’s always been fragile…” she muttered in defense. However, Nathalie joined this family with a sharp eye, and she wasn’t going to let her get away with it.
“Oh, she’s fragile, is she? We both get by with just one healthy kidney. Yet I’m the one working and building a business while she spends her days doing nothing, flaunting her wealth and basking in her status as Mrs. Dawson. She’s got the energy to show off but not to cook a meal for the parents who raised her?”
་ ན་ ོང་བ
