Greta was unexpectedly shaken.
When she looked up to meet Curtis's gaze again, her usual assertiveness was clearly overshadowed by him.
Now, I can clearly tell you—
Curtis spoke with unwavering certainty, "Kota loves burgers, especially classic cheeseburgers without any spicy sauces. She prefers her toppings simple—lettuce, tomato, and bacon. If you can stuff some crispy bacon inside a soft brioche bun with a little barbecue sauce, it'd be perfect."
"She likes mangoes and will go to the supermarket to buy them herself when she's not at home, but she prefers pre-cut fruit and doesn't like dealing with peels and seeds herself. She doesn't eat them at home because her grandmother is allergic to mangoes."
"And..."
"Anyone who likes watermelon wouldn't dislike the center. Kota just wants to give the sweetest part to her mother, whom she still wants to depend on, rather than not liking it herself, so she gives that piece to you."
Greta was completely stunned.
This was the first time she had heard these things from someone else, making her reconsider these matters from another perspective.
So...
Greta fell silent, unable to speak further.
She understood.
She realized that she, as a mother, hadn't been competent enough and had wrongly blamed the person who genuinely cared for her daughter.
Greta was momentarily speechless.
Curtis didn't want to say more.
His gaze darkened slightly, "I will make up for the love that Kota lacked from you. She is far more worthy of love than you imagine." She was far more worthy of love than she had imagined.
Greta stood stiffly there.
For the first time, she felt ashamed in front of a junior, unable to utter a single word of rebuttal.
Curtis didn't push her further, nodding politely, "Please be careful on your way home."
As his words hung in the air, Curtis turned and returned to the villa.
Greta stood in the garden for a long time, gazing at the warm light emanating from the villa, feeling dazed and lost.
The love that was missing from her…
She was far more worthy of love than she had imagined.
Curtis spoke with such conviction, his sharp, narrow eyes reflecting a depth like the sea, calm yet capable of stirring waves at any moment.
Greta knew she was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
Indeed, she was an inadequate mother, but the one thing she could be thankful for was that Curtis was the one who married Dakota.
Greta stood for a while and then left.
The villa was brightly lit.
Dakota hardly ate anything tonight.
Even though Greta had left, Dakota's mood was still low because of their conversation, leaving her unable to eat and desperate to know what they talked about.
Finally, "Click—"
She suddenly heard the door of the villa opening.
Dakota immediately rushed to the living room and saw Curtis returning, enveloped in the cool night air.
His sharp features and eyes gave a cold aura when he didn't smile, and his chiseled face exuded a strong sense of ruggedness and defiance.
"Curtis,"
Dakota practically rushed to him instantly. Curtis looked up, and his cold, sharp eyes met her clear, shimmering ones.
His wife's expression carried a mix of anxiety, guilt, and worry.
In that moment, Curtis's expression softened almost immediately.
He shed the sharpness and coldness from his confrontation with Greta, putting away all negative emotions, and walked to Dakota, like a lion lowering its head to look at her. He shed the sharpness and coldness from his confrontation with Greta, putting away all negative emotions, and walked to Dakota, like a lion lowering its head to look at her.
He gently rubbed her head, bending down to look at her tenderly, "What's wrong?"
Dakota's heart softened almost instantly.
She looked up at Curtis, "My mom... didn't say anything bad to you, did she?"
She was worried about him.
It seemed that Greta had already told Dakota what she had said to Curtis. Probably while he was preparing food in the kitchen.
No wonder the atmosphere between mother and daughter was off; Dakota had barely eaten during dinner.
"It's fine."
Curtis looked down at Dakota.
He was tall, nearly a head taller than Dakota with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, giving a sense of security like enveloping Dakota within his reach.
Curtis gently tapped Dakota's nose, "We just had a little talk with Mom, nothing serious was said."
But Dakota clearly didn't believe it.
She was afraid that Greta's usual dominance and authority might have caused discomfort for Curtis.
After all, the atmosphere at the Pineda's household was much more harmonious.
Whatever Greta wanted to say probably sounded ridiculous to Curtis, either causing trouble or amusement.
"Weren't you craving burgers?"
Curtis led Dakota toward the dining room, "I made your favorite cheeseburgers. Aren't these the toppings you usually like? Not hungry? How about some fries? I got the crispiest ones today, want to try a few?"
This man usually didn't talk so much.
He was always arrogant.
If it were before, he might have crossed his legs arrogantly, scoffed, and ignored her, calling others to eat.
Though he would still serve her favorite dishes, he wouldn't say much more.
But today, he kept trying to cheer Dakota up by looking down at her.
He didn't seem to have any negative feelings from their earlier conversation, instead worrying about Dakota and fearing she might be unhappy.
Curtis gathered Dakota close to him.
His hand on her lower back, through her thin clothing, transmitted a warm heat. Yet, he bent down and whispered near her ear, pushing her forward gently while talking incessantly.
"Curtis,"
Dakota finally stopped, clearly feeling the man behind her pause.
Curtis slightly frowned, irritated.
Damn, his wife wasn't happy.
He hadn't cheered her up yet.
But then Dakota suddenly turned to face him, "Why didn't you ask if I don't like burgers, mangoes, or the center of watermelon?"
"What?" Curtis was taken aback.
He had just been struggling with how to cheer his wife up.
But he didn't expect Dakota to ask this.
Dakota pursed her lips, taking a deep breath, "Don't you think I might be taking advantage of your affection for me and deliberately listing things I don't like to challenge you?"
Curtis's frustration instantly dissipated.
He regained his usual confident demeanor, scoffing lightly, "Wouldn't I know what you like to eat?"
