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.

to cook him a meal and

are you? Do you want Dad to pick you up?" "No need, Dad, I'll be back in the morning." After hanging up, Brittany lay on the bed, drifting into a drowsy sleep. She was exhausted from work, had a few drinks, and the effort of cooking late into the night took its toll. In her half-asleep state, she felt the man on the bed

Brittany glanced up, noticed the IV bag was empty, blood had backfilled the tubing. She quickly sat up, fixing it. "Sorry, I fell asleep." Isaac was staring straight at 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,

later, Brittany came in with a bowl of chicken and mushroom porridge and a few side dishes. "You're still on the IV, can you manage eating with your left hand?" Isaac nodded. He'd been bedridden long enough to master eating

after a few drinks, a bowl of warm porridge was enough to soothe the soul. Sitting beside him, Brittany sipped the porridge quietly. An unusual yet familiar taste, as if she'd 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 warmth, the porridge steaming hot. Brittany,

filled with a peculiar determination, "Bri." Brittany jolted, as if