Mission: From Divorcee to Millionaire

Selena blinked a couple of times, trying to make sure she wasn't seeing things.Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

"Everett, is my pasta... okay?" she asked, a bit unsure.

The warmth from the pasta had eased Everett's stomach ache, lifting his spirits considerably. "It's good," he remarked.

First, Selena thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, and now she began to doubt her ears.

You know what they say: the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

For three long years, she had poured her heart into figuring out what tickled Everett's taste buds. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, his response was always a flat "average," except for that one time when he said her food was "okay."

That really put a dent in her confidence. But then again, considering Everett was a man who had been pampered with gourmet dishes by top chefs all his life, it was only natural for him to be a bit of a food snob. So, she would just kept on trying. That was until one day when she dropped by his office to bring him lunch and saw that Margot had also sent a lovingly prepared meal. Everett hadn't even taken a bite when he told Margot over the phone. "Everything you send is delicious." Selena stood at the door and had felt like a total fool.

It wasn't that her cooking was off; it was that she wasn't the one he cared for. No matter how perfect her dishes were, he'd never appreciate them.

From that day forward, she stopped cooking for him, believing he didn't deserve her efforts. So, when she made the pasta, she didn't even bother with any seasoning.

What did he say? "It's good?"

Selena was suddenly filled with self-doubt. Was she losing it, or was he?

Actions speak louder than words. She grabbed the fork from Everett's hand, took a mouthful of the pasta, and immediately scrunched up her face, spitting it out. "It has zero flavor. How did you decide it was alright?"

She couldn't believe it. Every meal she'd ever cooked was a hundred, a thousand times better than this thrown-together pasta.

"Selena, why are you upset when I say it's alright?" Everett really couldn't wrap his head around her. She wasn't pleased when he criticized her cooking, and now she wasn't happy when he praised it.

"I just want to know what makes this

pasta special enough for you, Mr. Big Shot," Selena said, sitting

upright, her eyes locked onto his et

She looked like she wouldn't let him get a wink of sleep without an answer.

Everett was puzzled by her sudden need to investigate. Although she called him unreasonable, he thought she was the one being irrational.

Why did he think the pasta was alright? Maybe he was just starving after a long day, and anything would have tasted good, or maybe...

Some thoughts flickered through his

mind, stirring up an odd irritation Not in the mood to dive deeper, he casually answered, "I spent ten thousand bucks on this pasta; it has to be worth something."

The spark in Selena's eyes faded immediately. There she went again, overestimating herself.

Why would Everett find it delicious just because she made it?

She thought back to all the wonderful meals she had prepared for him for free, which he ignored. Now, he seemed to enjoy a plain bowl of pasta because he paid for it.

She muttered with a hint of sarcasm, "Guess free stuff just isn't valued."

"What are you mumbling about?" Everett hadn't caught her words and glanced at her with curious eyes.

Full of pent-up resentment, Selena forced a smile and said, "I said I should have charged you five thousand instead."

"...Can you talk about anything other than money?"

Even though Everett knew she loved money, and he didn't mind spending it, constantly hearing about it got under his skin and made him uncomfortable.

It felt like... she had no other feelings towards him aside from money.

As Selena cleared the table, she

heard his comment and couldn't

help but laugh. She looked him over before retorting, "Mr. Bennett, if I don't talk about money, should we talk about matters of the heart?"