Chapter 457

Nathaniel pressed the doorbell.

The apartment door opened swiftly, revealing Harrison's elegant silhouette. "Who is it—Mr. Falcon?"

Her eyes locked with Nathaniel's. She'd changed into a flowing home dress, her earlier glamorous makeup now washed away. Her natural beauty shone through—dewy skin glowing in the soft evening light.

She looked completely different from the dazzling woman at the dinner party.

"Got a minute?" Nathaniel asked.

Harrison's fingers twitched nervously. "What do you need? Just say it."

Before Nathaniel could respond, a familiar voice called from inside. "Who's there, Harrison?"

Nathaniel's gaze lifted to see Oliver standing in the apartment.

Oliver stood casually in slippers, crunching into an apple. "Mr. Falcon, what brings you here?"

Nathaniel's words stuck in his throat. He hadn't expected Oliver to be here.

Harrison's expression shifted slightly. "Well? If there's nothing else, I'm going back inside."

Nathaniel's jaw tightened as he glanced past her. "Just you and Oliver in there?"

"Is that so strange?" Harrison countered sharply.

The air grew thick with tension. Nathaniel's aristocratic features turned icy.

Just then, Rosalind poked her head out from the kitchen. "Harrison! The food's about to burn!"

Gabrielle's voice joined in. "Hurry up!"

Nathaniel remained stone-faced as he processed the voices. It wasn't just Oliver—Rosalind and Gabrielle were there too.

Yet this realization didn't ease the tension. Seeing Oliver so comfortable with Harrison's closest friends suggested they spent time together often.

Oliver offered a polite smile. "Mr. Falcon, we're cooking dinner. Have you eaten? You're welcome to join us."

Nathaniel, who'd rushed back hungry to find Harrison, opened his mouth to accept.

Harrison cut him off. "No, he won't be joining us." She turned to Nathaniel, voice firm. "We're having dinner now. Goodbye."

With that, she shut the door firmly in his face.

Nathaniel stood frozen for a moment. Then a self-deprecating smile touched his lips before he turned toward his own apartment.

His empty apartment echoed with silence, illuminated only by the soft glow of city lights through floor-to-ceiling windows. Tall and lean, he stood staring at the urban landscape.

He pulled out his phone and opened Rosalind's social media. A new post appeared:

[Harrison cooked for us! So many amazing dishes! Wish I had three stomachs!]

The accompanying photo showed a lavish spread of mouthwatering dishes. Harrison, Oliver, Rosalind and Gabrielle were clinking glasses, all smiles.

Nathaniel studied the photo intently, his fingers tightening around the phone.

A cold draft swept through the room, accentuating the quiet night. It only deepened the mysterious aura around his handsome features.

Suddenly, he remembered how long it had been since he'd tasted Harrison's cooking.

She was an exceptional chef—something Nathaniel knew well. After waking from his three-year coma, he'd needed extensive rehabilitation.

Throughout that time, Harrison had prepared his meals daily, patiently waiting for his return home each evening.