“Are you sure?” I asked and, last time, glanced at my mother-in-law. She nodded, clenching her back. She told me that her back was hurting and she wanted to cook something for herself. Even though there are two chefs in the mansion, she was craving something her grandmother used to cook for her when she was a child.

“You better not be planning anything against me," I said, taking the stool. I caress my hand over my belly. And claim on the stool. I stretched, and my hands reached to the container.