Leland Burns always believed that he was the one who understood Winifred Dawson the best. From her daily attire to her taste preferences, he meticulously studied every aspect of her to take good care of her.
In the morning, she clearly preferred sandwiches with a cup of Americano or milk over buns. Sometimes she would eat noodles, but not much, and when it came to porridge, she mostly enjoyed complex seafood porridge.
Her meals couldn’t repeat within a week, sometimes even for a month. Every day, Leland Burns racked his brain to think about what dishes she might want to eat.
He pampered Winifred Dawson step by step, elevating her tastes and making her accustomed to luxury.
He had once imagined giving all the best things to Winifred Dawson, making her adapt to him, get used to him, and unable to leave him.
But somehow, none of his plans came to fruition. Now, even the Winifred Dawson he remembered seemed unfamiliar. She was no longer delicate; she had moved far away from him to an unknown place.
She even ate these “cheap” meat buns and told Mrs. Protich, a servant, that she liked them. She admitted she had made mistakes before and donated that money to a charity helping women in need.
What did Mrs. Protich have that he didn’t? Or rather, what did he do worse than Mrs. Protich? Hadn’t he done enough? How could Mrs. Protich change Winifred Dawson in just a few months?
These were things he had thought about… why hadn’t they happened with him?
Mrs. Protich watched Leland Burns chewing on a bun with a frown. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his expression was unpleasant. Did it mean… the buns she made didn’t suit his taste?
It shouldn’t be… From what she remembered, Leland Burns wasn’t picky about food. She had seen him eat a bowl of plain noodles without any seasoning before. Could these meat buns be worse than plain boiled noodles? Even the picky Winifred Dawson liked them.
Mrs. Protich cautiously asked, “Mr. Burns… does this not suit your taste?”
The buns made by Mrs. Protich weren’t bad. Leland Burns swallowed and asked, “Is this how you usually make breakfast for Winifred Dawson?”
“Yes, is there a problem?”
“She likes eating these?”
Mrs. Protich saw the disbelief on Leland Burns’ face and said, “Miss Dawson has always liked my cooking. Didn’t she text saying my pancakes and beef sauce were delicious? And now she’s out there craving my buns.”
If she had known earlier, she would have made more delicious food before Winifred Dawson left. That night too, she should have steamed a basket of buns. Now that Winifred Dawson was away, she couldn’t eat them even if she wanted to.
Leland Burns didn’t speak and sat down to finish his bun. Mrs. Protich had prepared three meat buns, a bowl of porridge, and a bowl of cold dishes for him; it was quite filling.
Leland Burns wiped his mouth elegantly; his natural good looks from head to toe made even this simple act look graceful. Looking at him reminded Mrs. Protich of Winifred Dawson; they were strikingly similar.
Mrs. Protich didn’t dare leave and stood quietly by as Leland Burns finished his breakfast slowly. Unsure if he was full or not, she asked tentatively, “Mr. Burns, are you full?”
Leland Burns responded with a low “Mm,” then began inquiring about everything related to Winifred Dawson: “How much does she usually eat?”
“For Miss Dawson, one bun at most with half a bowl of millet porridge and a small plate of pickles.” When Mrs. Protich first met Winifred Dawson, her appetite was at its worst-she would vomit whatever she ate and couldn’t finish even half a bun or drink porridge. She often ate fruit to stave off hunger and looked pitifully thin.
Later on, Mrs. Protich helped nurse her back to health by cooking various nourishing foods.
After losing the child, Winifred began eating normally again-one bun for breakfast and a bowl of rice for lunch and dinner-and gradually gained weight back until she disappeared again… who knew if she’d lost that weight again out there?
Knowing that Winifred Dawson lived well under Mrs. Protich’s care only made Leland Burns more displeased.
Suddenly recalling the lost child, he asked, “How was she during her pregnancy?”
That child was also his; bringing it up suddenly made Mrs. Protich curious: “Mr. Burns, do you care about Miss Dawson?”
“No,” Leland Burns replied instinctively.
That was obviously a lie; if he didn’t care, why would he ask so many questions about Winifred Dawson over breakfast?
“Or more accurately,” he added with a hint of bitterness that quickly vanished but didn’t escape Mrs. Protich’s notice, “I do care-in that she’s living too well without me.”
Mrs. Protich’s mind raced; she sensed that Leland Burns harbored more hatred than affection for Winifred Dawson.
If Leland Burns ever caught Winifred Dawson… Mrs. Protich shuddered at the thought.
She wasn’t smart or powerful enough to help Winifred directly; perhaps all she could do was play on Leland Burns’ emotions in hopes of lessening his hatred for her.
Now that Leland Burns brought up the pregnancy himself, Mrs. Protich decided to use it as an entry point.
“Miss Dawson suffered greatly during her pregnancy,” she began cautiously. “At first, we didn’t even know she was pregnant-we thought it was just stomach issues because she’d vomit whatever she ate and looked terribly pale.”
“It was me who suspected something else when I noticed her constant nausea and fatigue along with missed periods… I suggested pregnancy but she denied it vehemently.”
“After secretly using a pregnancy test kit and confirming it herself in the bathroom… she cried.”
“So from the start, she didn’t want that child?” Leland Burns sneered lightly.
Mrs. Protich’s heart sank; it seemed like she’d said something wrong.