Mr. Ford Is Jealous Chapter 162

Stella quickly squashed the crazy idea. She couldn’t possibly put Roger in a position where his only
living relative was a criminal.

The clinking and clanking noise arose from the kitchen when Stella started cooking. Weston was sitting
on the sofa in the living room. The news was playing on the television, but he wasn’t paying any
attention to that. He was more interested in the noise that came from the kitchen.

Weston realized that he had always taken all these little details for granted in the past. He wondered
how many precious moments he’d lost forever.

Stella did not put as much thought into the cooking as she did in the past, because she no . longer had
any interest to please Weston. All she wanted to do now was complete a chore that she was assigned.
With that, she made a bowl of very simple chicken noodle soup and brought it out to the table. She
noticed that it was looking a little too plain, so she quickly chopped up some scallions and garnished it
on the soup. The little green bits on top made it look much more appetizing, though it was still plain to
see that not a lot of effort was put into the making of this soup.

Just as Stella brought the soup out to the table, Weston himself just came out of the shower. He’d
changed into more comfortable clothes. The gray t shirt softened his usually intimidating aura
significantly, but his dark eyes were still as icy and piercing as always, the pitch blackness of his pupils
was like a stonewall that rendered his thoughts and feelings completely inscrutable. Weston’s black
hair was still dripping wet. He tossed a towel onto Stella’s head and sat down on the chair in front of
her with his eyes fixed on her face,

Stella took a deep breath. “The soup is getting cold,” she told him. “There’s no rush,” he replied,
glancing at the bowl of soup on the table. “Dry my hair with that towel.”



Stella could hardly believe his audacity, but what could she say? Resigned to her fate, she went to
stand behind him and did what she was told.

Weston was a very tall man. There was a huge difference between their heights, so even as Weston
was sitting down while Stella was standing up, he still managed to stir a sense of intimidation inside
her.

Stella placed the towel on Weston’s head and started rubbing his hair neither gently nor too roughly,
pretending that Weston was Roger. Weston could sense her unwillingness, but he let her shove his
head this way and that way without saying anything about it. Not long after, Stella stopped and put the
towel down. “I think it’d be better if you blow it with a hair dryer,” she suggested.



“You know where the hair dryer is,” he replied without looking up. “Go get it.” Stella paused, but stayed
silent. She then turned around and left Weston to get the hair dryer. She knew her way in the mansion
very well, not just where the rooms were, but down to even where the smallest objects were. How
could she not, since she was the one who put them there?

She remembered how she loved to tidy up the house. She loved seeing the whole place in spick -and-
span condition. She also loved seeing her little personal touches everywhere around the house. She
remembered how happy she used to be here and it broke her heart. Every familiar corner was like a
little blade that cut through her heart, reminding her of how foolish she had been in the past.

It took Stella a long time that evening to serve Weston before he would let her go and start eating
When he finally turned his attention to the soup, he stared at the plain bowl of chicken noodle soup and
frowned. “I hate scallions,” he complained.

TL



Although Weston didn’t have any favorite food, he was still a very fussy eater. As someone who never
particularly liked anything yet hated many things, he was indeed a hard man to please. Stella had gone
through hell in the past just to appease him. She remembered now that Weston didn’t like heavily
seasoned food or anything that had a strong taste like garlic, onion, ginger, and scallions. She used to
make sure not to include any of those ingredients in her cooking.

Without saying a word, Stella marched into the kitchen and returned with a tiny bowl. She then sat
down opposite Weston and began to scoop out the bits of scallions from his soup. Seeing this,
Weston’s expressions warmed up a little. When Stella saw that he was done eating, she didn’t even
bother to ask him how he liked the food but just went ahead and cleaned up the table. Weston’s eyes
were fixed on her. He remembered that in the past, when he finished the food, Stella would shyly ask
him in the softest voice if he liked the food, her eyes wide with anticipation.

But now all she did was calmly pick up the bowl and the cutleries, not even bothering to look at him.

Weston drummed his fingers on the table. He waited till Stella was done cleaning up and when she
passed by his side, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her into his arms.


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