Chapter 17

Cynthia was dumbfounded. What tricks was she supposedly playing now? Could Zachary stop treating her like this every single time? This was infuriating! Meanwhile, Zachary ignored her, coolly walking past her and taking a seat at the dining table. After working all day and barely managing a makeshift lunch, he was now eyeing the simple yet fragrant meal Mason had eaten earlier. Though it wasn't a luxurious hotel spread, the aroma of home-cooked food was enticing. He glanced at Cynthia and commanded, "My dinner." Cynthia raised her brows in surprise but quickly understood. She chuckled. "Sorry, Mr. Beaver. I came to take care of Mason, not to be your chef. I only made food for Mason." The implication was clear—there was nothing for him. Plus, wasn't he the one looking down on her? There's no way she'd cook for him! Zachary was tongue-tied. How dare this woman talk to him like this? Well, he had to admit that she had guts. "In that case, clean the entire villa. If it's not spotless, you don't get to eat or rest." Cynthia was baffled! The villa spanned more than 5,000 square feet over three floors. Cleaning the entire place on her own was practically a death sentence! Cynthia opened her mouth, ready to protest. Zachary raised a brow. "What? Didn't you say you're here to take care of Mason? Mason lives here. Maintaining cleanliness is part of that responsibility. Or do you have objections?" The slight lift at the end of his sentence carried an undeniable sense of authority. Cynthia was speechless now. If ever there was a perfect example of digging one's own grave, this was it. She puffed up her cheeks in frustration, muttered under her breath, and picked up the cleaning supplies to get started. Zachary simply watched her bustling about, his lips curving into a faintly amused smile. She was the one who challenged his authority, so she would have to face the consequences. He then got up and walked to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to retrieve a pack of frozen meatballs. He wasn't much of a cook, and he had personal chefs back in Duskhaven. Here, he hadn't had time to hire anyone yet, so it was either takeout or frozen meals. Now that Mason had eaten, he was content to settle for something simple. After dinner, Zachary spent some time in the study handling minor work matters before heading to his room to put Mason to bed. As for Cynthia, he deliberately kept Mason unaware of her punishment. While holding Mason in his arms, the boy said softly, "I like her. You won't make her leave, will you?" Zachary's sharp eyes narrowed, and his broad hand rested on Mason's back. His tone was casual, almost probing. "Why do you like her?" Mason replied, "Because she smells like Mom." Zachary didn't respond to him. So, it was a misplaced emotional attachment, after all. The night wind was cool, but Cynthia wasn't feeling cold. It was quite the opposite, actually. She was drenched in sweat. For the first time, she fully grasped what the so-called joys of the wealthy entailed. A rooftop swimming pool and gym on the third floor. A study and home theater on the second floor. A living room, guest room, kitchen, laundry room, and garden on the first floor… The villa had everything. It took her a full nine hours to clean, finally finishing at 4:00 am. "Screw these capitalist overlords!" While muttering curses in her head, she trudged upstairs. As she passed Mason's room, she stopped and gently pushed the door open. The sound of the door woke Zachary instantly. His light sleep and high alertness had always been his nature. Hearing the soft footsteps and recognizing them as a woman's, his lips curled coldly in the darkness. She claimed she had no ulterior motives. But after using Mason as an excuse to stay, she couldn't even wait until the next day to sneak into his bed? If Cynthia knew what he was thinking, she would've gladly bashed his head in. What nonsense was he imagining! She was simply checking to see if Mason had kicked off his blanket. But... what was this man doing in the same bed? There he was, lying calmly on the bed, his sharp features even more defined in repose. His long, tapered eyes exuded an innate elegance, even in sleep. He was actually sleeping with Mason? Unexpectedly, he was quite responsible as a father. Afraid of waking Mason, Cynthia tiptoed over to the bed. She gently tucked Mason's blanket back in place and checked the mosquito repellent before quietly exiting the room and closing the door behind her. Originally, she had planned to kiss her son goodnight, but with Zachary there, she decided against it. After the door closed, Zachary's cold eyes snapped open, a hint of surprise flickering within. He had feigned sleep to see what tricks Cynthia might pull. But all she did was take care of Mason, and she hadn't even glanced at him. Why did it feel like she wasn't what he had imagined? Who exactly was this woman?