Chapter 378
Nathaniel’s gaze remained fixed on Benjamin before he retrieved his phone to call Dominic.
“Prepare a set of daily essentials for Mr. Kensington.”
Dominic, who had been bracing for punishment, accepted the new assignment without hesitation.
“Right away, sir!”
Benjamin snapped out of his daze.
Was Nathaniel Blackwood actually arranging personal supplies for him?
The untouchable head of the Blackwood family was showing him consideration?
Nathaniel rose to his feet.
“No need to be tense. I’m your brother-in-law.”
His voice was low and textured, carrying an air of effortless sophistication.
Then he turned and headed upstairs.
Benjamin stared after him, completely stunned.
Brother-in-law…?
Did Nathaniel just say that—so openly, so casually?
Upstairs, Isabella was with Oliver in his room, speaking softly.
“Don’t let Benjamin upset you, sweetheart. He’s just stubborn and set in his ways.
How about some exercise? Or we can play with your new toys.”
As long as his immunity strengthened, Oliver’s recovery would accelerate.
Oliver nodded obediently.
“Okay! A big person doesn’t fight with a small one.
I’m a grown-up five-year-old, after all!”
Just then, Nathaniel walked in.
His eyes immediately landed on Maxwell, who stood near Isabella.
Maxwell had striking silver hair and was dressed in sharp black tactical wear—like a special ops agent.
He looked familiar; Nathaniel was sure he’d seen him at an international security conference before.
What was he doing here, so close to Isabella?
Under Nathaniel’s intense scrutiny, Maxwell nearly flinched.
He’d faced combat zones and high-stakes negotiations, but Nathaniel’s gaze—authoritative and faintly possessive—was unnerving.
“Mission complete, Ms. Montgomery,” Maxwell said quickly.
“I’ll take my leave.”
He exited the manor almost at a sprint.
Isabella didn’t stop him.
She turned warily to Nathaniel.
“Weren’t you at the corporate gala? Why are you back so early?”
“It was tedious,” Nathaniel replied dismissively.
Noticing the safety harness Isabella had ready, he added,
“You two carry on. I’ll handle lunch.”
“Alright.”
Lately, Nathaniel had taken over most meal preparations.
They were premium pre-made dishes, designed to be heated precisely—each labeled with exact microwave timings by world-class chefs.
The results were consistently flawless.
Isabella helped Oliver with his rock wall and pull-up bar exercises.
Downstairs, Benjamin remained frozen on the sofa, struggling to process the situation.
Then he watched Nathaniel enter the kitchen and tie on a black apron.
Benjamin frowned. What was happening?
Nathaniel unwrapped the gourmet packages, placed them in the microwave, and set the timer.
He retrieved plates from the sterilizing cabinet—first three, then, noticing Benjamin in the living room, a fourth.
Benjamin stared, disbelieving.
Was he hallucinating?
Nathaniel Blackwood—ruthless, formidable, a titan of industry—was in the kitchen preparing a meal?
He lived with Isabella… Wasn’t she supposed to be the subordinate? The dependent?
Why was he the one cooking?
With innate elegance, Nathaniel set the table with plates and cutlery, then arranged the dishes.
Every movement was fluid and precise, like a scene from a classic romance film.
Thirty minutes later, four exquisite dishes graced the table.
Nathaniel removed his apron and looked toward Benjamin.
“Go inform your sister and your nephew it’s time to eat.”
Benjamin stiffened.
Nephew…
The young master of Westchester—his nephew?
And he was really about to share a meal with Nathaniel Blackwood?