Reality is indeed different from fiction. Regardless of the female lead, the male lead, or the side characters, their fate lies in the author’s hands.

“I’m not gabbing with you any longer. Get the takeout for me when it arrives. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

Amelia plopped down on Tiffany’s one and only bed and dozed off in a matter of seconds.

Sometime later, Amelia was woken up by the fragrant smell of food. She walked out of the bedroom groggily, just in time to see Tiffany setting the dining table.

“Tiff, you cooked? Didn’t I say to order takeout?” Amelia asked, perplexed.

“Well, you’re jilted. I figured I better comfort you with home-cooked food instead.” Tiffany smiled.

you’re not lazing around like a couch potato is when you’re writing your

and come eat. Keep

But hold up—are they actually edible?” Having thrown out her last jab, Amelia hurriedly dashed back into the

shook her head, but her lips curved into

dishes were not only edible but absolutely scrumptious. That was the only talent she had other than writing manuscripts. As Amelia put it, should her writing career not take off, she could seriously consider being a chef instead.

had what you made, Tiff. I didn’t expect your food to still taste like heaven,” Amelia

with the gift like a packaged deal. Besides, compared to you who could set fire

“Tiff, do you think I could win Oscar Clinton’s

What food do you suppose he’s never had before? Even if he wanted home-cooked food, he has plenty of servants to do the work. When would he need your contribution?

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