Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother novel Chapter 298

The oil popped a few times, and I jumped back, laughing nervously. My fingers smelled like tomatoes, and I had a smear of egg yolk on my Chapter 298

sleeve, but I didn’t care.

I went back to the eggs and added pepper because the boy in the video did. I tried to hum a song, but my throat felt tight, like something was stuck there.

Soon, the scent of toasted bread joined the eggs.

It took me almost three hours. My back hurt a little, and had egg bits stuck to the bottom of the pan because I forgot to lower the heat halfway through. Still, it smelled okay. Like something you could actually eat without frowning.

At least I didn’t really burn anything.

The table was already set. The plates lined up neatly, and napkins were folded into triangles like Caroline did. I even lit one of the tiny candles from the drawer, the ones they used when guests came over. It made the dining look warmer.

I checked the time.

Almost six.

They should be home by now.

I wiped my hands on the dish towel and peeked out the window with my heart thudding, but they were not here yet.

I rushed upstairs and peeled off my school uniform, the collar stained with tomato and egg yolk. The bathroom mirror fogged up quickly, and I didn’t wait for the water to get fully warm. I just scrubbed myself clean and tried not to slip when I ran back out with a towel barely holding around my waist.

I picked out my good shirt. The one with the small buttons that took forever to do up. Caroline used to help with those, but I managed tonight. I wanted to look neat when they walked in and saw the table. I wanted to look like someone worth being proud of.

Downstairs, I wiped the table again, even though it was already clean. I set the plates one more time–white ones for them, the blue–rimmed one for me. Fork on the left. Napkin on the right. I lit the candle again because it went out earlier when I opened the dining window.

Two maids came in. One of them smiled. “Kester, should we-”

“No. I’ve got it,” I said too quickly, “I wanna do this myself. For Mum and Dad.”

They looked at each other but didn’t argue. They knew I was too serious tonight to be stopped.

I sat at the table.

And waited.

And waited…

The eggs were getting cold when the clock hit 7. The toasts were also getting hard.

Did I prepare dinner too early? Would they be displeased at my wrong timing?

But… This was the perfect time we used to have dinner together when I was much younger. Had dinner times changed?

1/3

I chewed on a piece of toast, but it was hard now. I stopped after one bite.