"..." Amelia Garcia held herself back and asked with a sneered laugh, "Have you ever drunk swill before?"
How else would you know this soup tastes just like swill?
"Amelia Garcia!" The man was displeased.
"Present."
Her smiling response somehow infuriated Mr. Hart to the point where he couldn't continue to press the matter.
The two of them became tacitly silent.
After a while, the patient reluctantly finished a small bowl of soup, and when "Mom" suggested he drink more, he replied with a cold face, "Are you deliberately tormenting me or taking revenge?"
"Pfft! Drink it or don't." Amelia Garcia indignantly stood up and walked away, grabbing another takeout box and starting to eat by the coffee table.
Mr. Hart frowned again, "Why are you sitting so far away?"
"Mr. Hart is so noble and fastidious; how would I know if you wouldn't disdain the smell of my food?"
"..." Christopher Hart's thin lips pressed into a line, his handsome face tensing sharply.