Jennifer smirked. So what if the housekeeper liked Chloe? She had plenty of ways to make these people listen. "Get me a plate," she said sharply. Sarah stood still, not moving. "I'm making breakfast for Arthur. Help me out—go get a plate." This time, Sarah finally turned and took a plate from the cabinet. Jennifer took the plate and looked over the food on the table. She picked a few things and arranged them neatly on the plate. The oatmeal looked and smelled great. She tried a little—it tasted just like restaurant quality. Arthur probably refused it earlier because his stomach was upset. Or maybe he just didn't want it from the housekeeper. "Bring me a bowl," Jennifer ordered. Sarah placed one in front of her and said seriously, "Ms. Williams, I made this oatmeal. Mr. Myers doesn't really like it." Jennifer gave her a cold look. "It's the same oatmeal. But when someone else serves it, it tastes different." Sarah didn't answer. She just stood quietly nearby. Jennifer spooned the oatmeal into the bowl. She checked the temperature to make sure it was just right. Then she picked up the plate of pastries and left the kitchen. In the living room, Jenarth was still gently rubbing Arthur's forehead. Arthur had his eyes closed. He looked calm and comfortable. The scene was warm and peaceful. "Arthur, breakfast is ready!" He opened his eyes when he heard Jennifer's voice. The food, carefully plated, was a feast for the eyes. But when his eyes stopped on the bowl of oatmeal, his expression shifted slightly. "Arthur, I made this oatmeal myself. Try it," Jennifer said. She put the bowl in front of him and set a spoon beside it. Arthur stared at the oatmeal for a long time. He didn't move. "Arthur..." Jennifer called softly. He seemed to snap out of it. Seeing Jennifer's hopeful face, he picked up the bowl and took a small taste. It wasn't what he expected. His stomach turned. He wanted to spit it out. But Jennifer was watching him eagerly. She'd gone into the kitchen to prepare these herself. So he forced himself to swallow it. Watching him eat the oatmeal she served, Jennifer felt proud inside. "Take your time, Arthur. Try these pastries too," she said, pushing the plate closer. Arthur looked at the food. His stomach twisted again. Forcing down the oatmeal had made it worse. "Jennifer," Arthur put the bowl down and said seriously, "you stay and have breakfast with Jenarth. I just remembered something at work. I need to go." He stood up and walked quickly toward the door. "Arthur..." Jennifer called after him, but he didn't look back. Jenarth watched him leave, confused. "Mommy, he looks a little sick." Jennifer didn't answer. Her face grew colder. ***** After leaving the villa, Arthur called his assistant, Donald Jones, to pick him up. Donald was confused. Just an hour earlier, Arthur said he was taking the day off. He told him to handle things at the company and hold off on major decisions. Now, suddenly, he wanted to go to the office. "Mr. Myers, are you feeling better?" Donald asked carefully. Arthur had been rubbing his forehead since he got in the car. "Take me to Central Hospital," he said quietly. Donald grew worried. "Mr. Myers, are you sick? Should I book a doctor in advance?" "I want to see my grandpa," Arthur said, leaning back in his seat. Donald understood. Arthur wasn't sick—he was visiting his grandfather. He told the driver to head to the hospital and didn't ask more. Arthur leaned back and closed his eyes. His stomach still felt uneasy. He tried to calm down, but every time he shut his eyes, he heard Chloe's voice in his head. Her mocking words played over and over. She said he was blind and clueless. She said she didn't want him anymore. He was out of the game. The more he remembered, the worse he felt.