Chapter 718

Jonathan shot Gary a look that said, "Seriously?" Then he added, "Well, now you know. Go buy the stuff. I'll pay you back."

"Alright, got it," Gary said.

After Gary left, Jonathan called his associate, Bobby Reese. Bobby was highly efficient. Jonathan instructed him to find three live-in maternity nurses and postpartum care specialists. He planned to interview them himself and, if they were suitable, the pay would be generous. He'd been considering this for a while; Teresa only had about four months until her due date, and he worried she wouldn't get used to staying at a postpartum care center. Ultimately, he needed to convince her to move into the villa with him. It was larger, better equipped, and it would be much easier for him to care for her there.

Teresa was still groggy when the delicious smell of food wafted into her room, jolting her awake. She sat up in bed, confused—she hadn't been in the kitchen, so how could the house smell of food? For a second, she thought the house might be on fire. She hurried to the kitchen, only to find Jonathan cooking. His tall figure surprisingly looked at home there, surrounded by steam. Teresa coughed to attract his attention.

Hearing her, Jonathan turned and raised an eyebrow. "You're up? Give me five more minutes, and we can eat."

"How did you get in here?" Teresa asked.

"I came in with Mike," Jonathan replied.

Teresa frowned, realizing Michael was back. She'd given a spare key to Miriam, but since Miriam hadn't returned from Gorthany, Michael had it.

Teresa took a deep breath. "Jonathan, you don't owe me anything just because I'm pregnant. I can take care of myself. Even without you, I'm doing fine."

Jonathan turned off the stove, his expression unreadable. "Go get Mike for dinner. Not sure if he's asleep yet."

Teresa laughed coldly. Changing the subject wouldn't work. "I'm fine. I'm not hungry." She returned to her room and closed the door.

Jonathan frowned, thinking, 'Why is she so stubborn? She hasn't eaten all day, and she looks even thinner than before.'

Just then, Michael ran to Jonathan. "Wow, Mr. Lime! It smells so good. What yummy stuff did you make?"

Jonathan beckoned Michael closer. "Mike, I need a favor." He crouched and whispered something in Michael's ear.

Michael nodded, standing straight like a soldier. "Roger that!"

"Alright, go on, good boy." Jonathan kissed Michael's forehead. Michael's face flushed red as he quickly ran off.

Teresa had planned to skip dinner, but Michael entered her room, acting cute and clingy, his voice soft and babyish. "Mommy, why aren't you eating? Skipping meals isn't good for you. Please don't skip dinner, Mommy."

Teresa sniffled. "I'm not hungry, sweetie. You go eat, okay?"

Michael hugged her arm tightly and shook his head. "No, I want to eat with you. Mr. Lime made so much yummy food."

Teresa remained silent.

"Mommy, let's go eat together," Michael urged.

Teresa couldn't refuse her son's pleading eyes and persistent coaxing. She could skip dinner, but she wouldn't let her son go hungry. Michael took her hand, and the two of them—one big, one small—left the room.

Jonathan was setting the table, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he watched them.

"Come on; let's eat. Have some soup," Jonathan said gently, ladling a bowl for Teresa first, then one for Michael, and finally himself.

"Mommy, I'll get you a spoon," Michael chirped, running to the kitchen and happily placing a spoon in Teresa's bowl.