Grandma Blanche led Jenna Roland into the kitchen. Brand-new cookware was neatly arranged, with even the seasonings fully stocked.

"Jenna, just let me know if you need anything," Grandma Blanche said affectionately, patting her hand.

"Thank you, Grandma," Jenna replied obediently.

The elderly woman nodded in satisfaction. "Get familiar with the place. I'll head back now."

Jenna escorted her to the elevator and watched the doors close before returning to the apartment.

Standing in the bright living room, Jenna couldn't help but smile. Finally free from her uncle's shadow, she and Milo could start anew.

Her mind raced with plans—find a job, hire a lawyer to reclaim the orchard, save for Milo's treatment.

After organizing Milo's clothes, Jenna settled on the sofa and checked her phone. Ethan Roscente still hadn't accepted her friend request.

Frowning, she sent another request, deciding this would be her final attempt.

While charging her e-bike outside, Jenna asked a neighbor for directions to the grocery store. The upscale Beverly Hills community had everything—schools, supermarkets, subway access.

Returning with groceries, she noticed Ethan had finally accepted her request. His profile picture was pure black, his username just a single period.

"Mr. Roscente, this is Jenna. Will you be home for lunch?" she typed carefully.

Fifteen minutes later, her phone vibrated. "Yes."

Even punctuation seemed excessive for him.

"What time should I expect you?" she pressed.

"Twelve." Still brutally concise.

Jenna tied on an apron and prepared lunch. Six flavorful dishes were laid out just as Milo burst in excitedly.

"Sis, what's the occasion?" His eyes sparkled at the feast.

"Your brother-in-law is coming for lunch," she explained.

The doorbell rang precisely at noon.

Jenna's breath caught when she opened the door. Ethan stood there in a black suit, his sharp features expressionless, radiating an icy aura.

"Mr. Roscente, please come in." She stepped aside.

Milo hovered nervously by the bathroom. "Hello, Mr. Roscente. I'm Milo."

Ethan gave him a frosty glance. "Hello." His voice could freeze water.

In the kitchen, Milo whispered, "Sis, he seems terrifying. What if—"

"Don't overthink it," Jenna cut him off. "Grandma Blanche said he's just reserved."

When they carried out the dishes, Ethan was already seated at the table. He took a bite of the stir-fried pork with garlic stems without changing expression.

"How does it taste?" Jenna ventured timidly.

"Hmm." Another monosyllabic reply.

Jenna sighed inwardly. Her cooking clearly needed improvement.