Chapter 566

Chapter 565:

Gaston stood by the kitchen island with his arms crossed, his dark eyes scanning Martha not as a potential employee, but as a potential threat. His executive assistant had been tasked with finding someone, yet this felt too fast, too convenient.

“My wife is experiencing severe morning sickness,” he said, his voice sharp. “Three Michelin chefs failed this morning. Why should I trust you in my kitchen p>

Martha did not flinch under his stare. She offered a calm, polite smile.

“Because Michelin chefs cook for the ego, sir,” she replied evenly. “I cook for the stomach. Pregnant women do not need truffles. They need roots, ginger, and simplicity p>

Gaston’s jaw tightened, but he gave a curt nod. The logic was sound, and his desperation for Jocelyn’s comfort outweighed his paranoia — for the moment. He gestured toward the massive, state-of-the-art kitchen. “You have one hour. On a trial basis p>

Martha moved into the kitchen without hesitation. She bypassed the expensive caviar and wagyu beef in the commercial refrigerator entirely. Instead, she pulled out a simple free-range chicken, a large knob of fresh ginger, and a handful of dried, unfamiliar herbs from her own canvas bag.

T𝗁𝗈us𝘢ո𝘥s 𝘰f 𝗿𝖾аdе𝗿ѕ 𝘰𝗇

An hour later, a subtle, earthy aroma drifted from the kitchen into the master bedroom. It was not rich or overpowering. It smelled like warmth.

Jocelyn lay on her side with her eyes closed. The scent reached her, and for the first time in two days, her stomach did not clench. The furrow that had been fixed between her brows slowly smoothed away.

Gaston walked in carrying a small ceramic bowl. The broth inside was perfectly clear, emitting a gentle wisp of steam. He sat on the edge of the bed, helped Jocelyn sit up against the pillows, dipped a silver spoon into the broth, blew on it carefully, and held it to her lips.

Jocelyn hesitated. Then she took a small, cautious sip.

The warm liquid slid down her throat and coated her stomach with a soothing, ginger-laced heat. The nausea retreated, replaced by a sudden, desperate hunger.

She reached out and took the bowl from his hands, drinking the entire thing in slow, steady gulps.

Gaston let out a long breath he had been holding for hours. The rigid tension in his shoulders finally dissolved. He pulled out his phone and typed a text to Mrs. Higgins.

Hire her. Triple her asking salary. Tell my assistant to run a full-spectrum deep background check tonight. I want to know what she had for breakfast a decade ago.

Over the next two days, Martha worked quietly and effectively. Every meal she prepared was perfectly calibrated to Jocelyn’s volatile stomach. The sickly pallor faded from Jocelyn’s cheeks, replaced by a healthy, rosy flush.

On the afternoon of the third day, Jocelyn walked into the kitchen while Martha was chopping vegetables.

“Martha, I cannot thank you enough,” Jocelyn said, leaning against the marble island. “Where did you learn to make that ginger broth? It is incredible p>

Martha’s knife paused for a fraction of a second. Her eyes dropped to the cutting board.