Jenna Roland clenched the voice recorder in her pocket, her fingertips trembling slightly.

She had hoped to capture some crucial conversations for future use. But given the current situation, her plan was falling apart.

She exhaled quietly and turned to leave.

......

When she returned to Victor Roland's house, the place was in complete disarray.

Jenna scanned the mess, a cold smirk curling her lips. If she wanted them to lower their guard, she might as well go all in.

Rolling up her sleeves, she began cleaning up the chaos.

By 4:30 PM, the aroma of cooking filled the kitchen.

At exactly 5:00, Heidi and Fiona Roland barged in. Their faces darkened the moment they saw Jenna.

"How dare you show your face here?" Fiona shrieked, her nails digging into her palms.

Jenna didn’t even glance up as she slammed the kitchen door shut.

Amid the roar of the exhaust fan, a glint of ice flashed in her eyes.

By 5:30, four dishes and a soup were laid out on the dining table.

Victor and Jason Roland had already taken their seats in the living room. Jenna went to fetch them one by one, as if serving royalty.

"You must be out of your mind!" Fiona threw her bag onto the table, rattling the dishes.

Victor picked up a piece of braised pork, then frowned. "Why aren’t you eating?"

"Not hungry." Jenna stood in the kitchen doorway, shadows masking half her face.

Heidi suddenly flung her chopsticks down. "Did you poison the food?"

The air turned frigid.

Jenna strode forward, grabbed a pair of chopsticks, and tasted every dish. She locked eyes with Heidi. "Satisfied?"

The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom.

Fiona shoveled rice into her mouth, teeth gritted. "She got us thrown in jail, and you—"

"Her cooking’s good," Victor smacked his lips. "And she cleaned the house."

Jason grinned. "Free help—why not use it?"

The three exchanged greedy glances.

"Not a cent less for rent and expenses!" Heidi suddenly raised her voice.

The conversation died as the doorknob turned.

Jenna emerged, hanging the last shirt to dry. She wiped her damp fingers on her apron. "Uncle Victor, I’m leaving."

Victor’s chopsticks froze mid-air. "You’re not staying?"