The Billionaire Who Stole My Heart

ignited the gas, her hands moved on their own, with a proficiency as if she'd done it a million times before.

Brittany opened the fridge, scanning the ingredients with a plan to make chicken and mushroom porridge, along with a few side dishes. She turned on the stove and started rinsing the rice. A clear thought crossed Brittany's mind; she wasn't a cook. Yet, as soon as she Making the porridge was a bit of a hassle, requiring the chicken to be shredded into fine pieces meticulously. Brittany was diligent, spending over an hour preparing the meal. Exiting the kitchen, she found Isaac still sprawled on the couch. His complexion was off, lips slightly pale, one hand clutching his stomach with veins bulging. He was genuinely in discomfort.

Brittany rushed over, "Isaac?" She tapped his shoulder, only to realize he had passed out. Immediately, Brittany grabbed her phone to call a doctor. After hanging up, she crouched in front of the couch, examining the man before her. Sharp brows, piercing eyes, an aura of coldness. Clearly, not the easiest person to get along with.

She turned off the stove, the aroma of the porridge filling the room, but her appetite had vanished. The doctor arrived promptly and diagnosed him with stomach spasms caused by excessive drinking, likely the pain had knocked him out. Hearing "stomach spasms," Brittany felt a sharp sting in her heart, a wave of acute pain spreading out.

doctor left. Brittany had planned to cook him a meal and leave, but with Isaac fainting, she couldn't

drowsy sleep. She was exhausted from work, had a few drinks, and the effort of cooking late into the night took its

her, "You didn't leave?" "How could I leave you passed out?" After adjusting the IV, Brittany asked, "Hungry? The porridge is still warm." Isaac lacked appetite, but it had been too long since he last enjoyed a meal prepared by Brittany. "Okay." Brittany checked his hand to make sure the IV hadn't come loose, then sighed in relief,

nodded. He'd been bedridden long enough to master eating

had it many times before. Isaac silently ate, his movements swift as if to confirm the reality of the moment, not just a fleeting dream. The soup kept its

peculiar determination, "Bri." Brittany jolted, as if grasping at a crucial clue, "Isaac,