Mentioning my father, Dustin fell silent, acutely aware that his own father was responsible for my dad's death.

"I guess I'll never enjoy meatballs the same way again," I said, looking at the dish Phipps had prepared, my words lacking sincerity.

I couldn't let Dustin suspect Phipps. I was now certain that Phipps was Ernest in disguise, which meant he had a purpose.

Though I wasn't privy to his motives, my role was clear: cooperate and avoid causing trouble.

"Felicia, I'm truly sorry about your parents," Dustin said, displaying the expression of a man burdened by guilt.

His pretentiousness sickened me, but I placated him against my better judgment, "It's not your fault."

He managed a bitter smile, "Felicia, you're a kind soul."

Yes, foolishly kind. I once thought I could forgive the harm his parents inflicted on mine, but I've realized that's beyond me.

Not wanting to continue the conversation, I turned my attention to the creamy pumpkin soup before me, its sweet, milky flavor providing a semblance of comfort. Phipps' culinary skills were undeniable, even surpassing Ernest's previous attempts.

time comes for him to admit he's Ernest, I'll have to ask if he spent these months perfecting his cooking

delicious," I complimented, under Dustin's watchful

have plans tonight?" Dustin asked, hanging onto every word

I was just speaking off the cuff," I replied, licking some pumpkin soup from the

looked, Dustin's gaze deepened,

invitation was sudden but not unexpected, considering

thought, I accepted, figuring it was time to give him a glimmer of

"What do you feel like eating?

I replied just as someone walked in,

his cue to leave, "I'll see you tonight

out a sigh and turned my attention back

I didn't leave a single bite, confident I wouldn't be hungry until the next morning after such a hearty

saw a message from Grant asking if someone was with

responding, I tried calling Deborah, only to find her phone out

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