She’d had people watching Patricia for ages, but they’d never managed to dig up anything substantial—meanwhile, Jarrod had already struck a decisive blow.
“If you don’t want anyone to find out, don’t do it in the first place,” Jarrod said, his tone flat as he scanned the menu, methodically picking out dishes. “With her kind of extreme personality, nothing she does would surprise me. Especially after all those years overseas… she’s picked up plenty of bad habits.”
Elodie glanced over the menu and noticed that everything he chose was something she liked. Even the last dish—a red bean dessert—was her favorite.
She’d always thought Jarrod never really paid attention to her, but now, with some distance from her old feelings, she could finally see the details she’d missed before.
“But how did you know when she'd actually do something like that? Those things are pretty private,” Elodie asked, setting the menu aside.
He’d taken care of ordering everything, sparing her the trouble.
“Walls have ears. If you want to live in the spotlight, you’d better be ready to pay the price.”
With his connections in Eldermere, there was almost nothing Jarrod couldn’t find out.
It dawned on Elodie—he must have placed some informant close to Patricia.
She could imagine what a shock this must be for someone as spoiled and willful as Patricia. Abroad, anything might fly, but back home, those antics wouldn’t be tolerated.
The food arrived, dish by dish.
Jarrod poured hot water over Elodie’s utensils, then slipped on a pair of disposable gloves and started peeling the bright, salt-baked prawns—without even touching his own plate.
He placed the peeled prawns neatly onto Elodie’s small dish.
She frowned. “Eat your own food. You don’t need to do this for me.”
Jarrod glanced up with a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not trying to win you over.”
“Then what are you doing?” Elodie pressed.
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