A pungent aroma wafted through the air, prompting Tilda to look at the stove.

“Elma, what are you cooking? It’s about to burn.

Elma’s eyes went wide and she quickly turned to the stove.

“Oh, my braised lamb!”

Braised lamb?

The pungent aroma of lamb that permeated the air suddenly made sense.

Tilda frowned at Elma.

Elma, why are you making this? Sheldon and I don’t enjoy eating it.

Elma dished the tender and flavorful braised lamb, expertly cooked to near perfection.

“This dish isn’t for you and Sheldon.

I cooked it to nourish Mr.

Fernandez.

You and Sheldon can have the chicken soup.

Both you and Mr.

and recharge your systems so Sheldon can have a sibling

gone on

a firm tone, “Elma, you’re

and I didn’t do

were

was sleeping, and he

only made Elma furrowed her brows even

“Mr.

you company?

“Yes.

“Nothing else?”

“Yes!”

AngelasLibrary

in the living room, her voice trailing off

impotent? That

such a problem! It must be because

an even deeper shade of

to jump to conclusions, I swear I’ll

out laughing, not the least

gaze strayed to Lyndon who was still busy playing with Sheldon and her laughter

were still sleeping in

Tilda’s condition, he should shower her with extra attention and devotion, making sure she felt pampered and

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