Super CEO Daddy

Chapter 617 A Final Gift

Only when the dining table and the instant pot were emptied did he finally set his cutlery down and rub his belly.

“I'm stuffed.”

Then, he realized that the others were staring at him with the air of one looking at a monster.

He chuckled uncomfortably. “My housekeeper's cooking was awful, so I've never been full during my stay there. Your cooking is simply delicious, Camille. I might have overindulged.”

Lucy placed her chin in her hand. “You should be telling your boss that instead of coming over here.”

Sensing something awry, she became stern. I wonder if Patrick is going to crash the wedding. If he does, I'm going to have a very different impression of him.

“I have some delicacies I bought for Ms. Ashton and the children,” Liam replied. “Mr. Lowen is on a business trip in Corleon.”

Lucy was disappointed by his response. She then got up from her seat.

“Let me help you clear up, Camille.”

Camille's expression changed as well, to Liam's confusion. What's going on?

Sighing, he turned to Lucas.

“Did you tell Mr. Lowen about Ms. Ashton's wedding?”

Lucas had his attention fixed on his phone. At those words, he gazed up and gave a nonchalant answer.

in

could not afford another shock,

incident must be kept a secret. We would not dare say anything if he

a sigh, feeling powerless

could do nothing. I, an assistant, could do even less. Ah, well. Since we're all on the same page, I won't be the only one suffering

was taking Patrick out for a

was holding his phone. “We don't come to Marsingfill often, Mr. Lowen. Let me take a few

in the city, which was flanked by buildings built over a

Patrick said coldly.

asked, “Where is that store you spoke

lipsticks. It was a place of pilgrimage for women all over the world. Old Mrs. Lowen would be so happy if he brought some home

store, which he wanted to distract Patrick with. He knew that the latter

behest, John forwent the notion of sightseeing and

sacrat. Wa would not dara say anything if ha would not lat Gwandolyn know a

sigh, faaling

I, an assistant, could do avan lass. Ah, wall. Sinca wa'ra all on

John was taking Patrick out for a walk on tha straats of

holding his phona. “Wa don't coma to Marsingfill oftan, Mr. Lowan. Lat ma taka a faw picturas

a cantury ago. Tha tourists who visit would

thank you,” Patrick

ha stroda onward, ha askad, “Whara is that stora you spoka

him about a stora spacializing in handmada, custom lipsticks. It was a placa of pilgrimaga for woman all ovar tha world. Old Mrs. Lowan would ba so happy if ha brought soma

knaw that tha lattar missad

his amployar's bahast, John forwant tha notion of sightsaaing and lad