Second Chance: Marrying into Wealth Chapter 119

To dodge Christopher's relentless questions, I quickly switched topics. "It's getting late. I should help Tiana pack her stuff."

Without waiting for his response, I grabbed the shopping bags I had prepared and headed to Tiana's room.

Tiana seemed to be planning a long stay back home, judging by the mountain of things she had to pack.

My shopping bags weren't exactly huge, so I ended up with a bunch of them.

I had to carry them two at a time. I placed the first set of bags in a corner and went back for the rest.

When I returned, I was surprised to see Christopher packing the items into a box he had found somewhere.

"You..." I was so shocked that I spoke without thinking.

Christopher calmly replied, "The shopping bags are too flimsy. A box is more suitable."

I got his point, but I was still taken aback.

However, I felt that this wasn't something he should be doing.

I hurried over, trying to take the items from his hands. "Let me do it. This isn't your job."

Christopher instinctively dodged, and instead of grabbing the items, I ended up holding his hand. It was dry and warm.

Embarrassed and nervous, my face turned red.

Christopher's expression froze for a moment before he gently pushed my hand away, his face calm and composed. "Tiana is my employee. It's my responsibility."

I wanted to argue that Tiana had asked me to help, but Christopher had already finished packing and picked up the other two bags I had just set down.

At this point, trying to take over would only waste time, so I handed him the tape to seal the boxes.

We worked together efficiently and finished packing quickly.

I then scheduled a pickup for the delivery, which showed it would take about twenty minutes.

When Christopher heard we had to wait twenty minutes, he asked me to go over the schedule for the next day.

"Sure!" To avoid mistakes, I always reviewed the schedule the day before, so I could recite it fluently even without notes.

But just as I was halfway through, Christopher's phone rang.

I planned to continue once he finished his call, but it went on for a long time.

The delivery person arrived while he was still on the phone.

After sending off the package, I thought he would be done soon, so I decided to wait.

Through the glass door, I saw Christopher standing outside, tall and imposing. Despite the dim light, his presence was unmistakable.

As I watched, I couldn't help but yawn, feeling a bit sleepy.

I leaned my elbow on the armrest of the sofa and rested my head on my hand, waiting.

I didn't expect to fall asleep. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a room with a simple, elegant decor. The blanket had a faint, familiar scent, but I couldn't place it.

The unfamiliar surroundings made me anxious. I sat up quickly. "Where am I? How did I get here?"

I didn't even notice I was barefoot as I rushed out of the room.

When I reached the hallway and looked down at the familiar living room setup, I realized I was in Christopher's house.

The room I had been sleeping in... I covered my mouth in shock, feeling a bit ashamed.

No wonder the blanket's scent was familiar—it smelled like Christopher.

Christopher must have never encountered an assistant like me, who not only fell asleep while reporting but also took over his room and bed.

I glanced outside. It was dawn, and the air was cool. Based on my usual routine, it was around 6:30 AM.

To make up for my mistake and remembering Paxton's request for me to make breakfast for Christopher, I quickly freshened up and headed to the kitchen.

Cooking porridge was easy, and I made some vegetables to go with it.

There was a clock in the living room. I checked the time, figuring Christopher would be up soon. The porridge would be at the perfect temperature by the time he came downstairs.

Feeling refreshed from a good night's sleep, I was in a cheerful mood. I couldn't help but hum a little tune as I served the porridge.

"What are you doing in the kitchen so early?"

The sudden voice startled me. I had been so focused that I didn't hear him approach.

I was so surprised that I accidentally spilled the hot porridge on my hand. "Ouch."

Instinctively, I shook my hand to get rid of the porridge.

Christopher quickly grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the sink, running cold water over the burn.

"Melinda, I hired you as an assistant, not a servant." His voice was tinged with anger, but he didn't stop running the water over my hand.

The pain eased a bit, but his words made me feel a wave of sadness. I knew it wasn't his fault—it was mine.

"I'm sorry." I looked down, my voice choked with emotion.

Christopher paused, almost spilling the water, then gently guided my hand back under the faucet. His voice softened. "Melinda, I didn't know you could cook."

Already feeling upset, his words made me snap back. "There's a lot you don't know about me. Don't underestimate me. I can cook well. I could even open a restaurant and get plenty of customers."

Christopher looked at me intently, then said, "I'll have to try it then. Go sit on the sofa. I'll get some ointment."

"No, it's fine. It doesn't hurt anymore!" I realized I had been rude and didn't want to trouble him further.

Christopher's expression turned stern. "It doesn't hurt? Try it!"

I didn't understand what he meant.

When he turned off the faucet and let my hand hang naturally, the burn started to hurt again, and the pain grew worse.

I had always been pampered, and my skin was delicate. Without the cold water, the pain was intense.

Christopher handed me a handkerchief. "Dry your hand and wait on the sofa. I'll get the ointment."

He glanced at my red, burned hand before heading upstairs.

In too much pain to argue, I obediently sat on the sofa.

Thankfully, Christopher returned quickly with a first aid kit. He found the burn ointment, along with some cotton swabs and antiseptic.

He sprayed the antiseptic on the burn first, then carefully applied the ointment with a cotton swab.