Isabella Weaver couldn't help but tap her forehead. Was she still dreaming? Why was she being treated like a princess in a movie!
On the table, steam rose from the food, emitting a tempting aroma: almond porridge, jade corn soup, shredded chicken with mountain delicacies, crispy golden pancakes, candied cherries, crystal shrimp dumplings...
A breakfast with dozens of dishes; living at the renowned "Watch King's" house for so many years, Isabella had never seen such extravagance.
She wanted to tell Harry Hunter that he had sent too much, but when she picked up her phone, she realized she didn't even have his number.
There was another knock on the door, and Isabella opened it to see the person she meant to call.
"Mr. Hunter..."
Harry Hunter nodded slightly, his gaze falling on the fingers she used to open the door: "What happened to your hand?"
Isabella withdrew her hand: "It's nothing, just an accident."
Harry Hunter extended his hand: "Let me see."
