Quintessa's smirk slowly faded from her face.
Well, after all, Alexander had saved her. Let it be.
Suddenly, Mrs. York pinched both Tyrone and Quintessa on the cheek, scolding, "What are you two staring at? Eat up. Those filthy things won't do any good to your appetite. If you don't finish your meal, you're not getting any tomorrow."
Mrs. Harrington trembled with rage. She had been trying to intimidate Mrs. York for years and often taking pleasure in stomping over her whenever she got the chance.
It's a strange feeling when the person you've been bullying suddenly stands up for themselves. The bully finds the newfound balance unsettling.
Quintessa immediately lifted her head and smiled sweetly, "Auntie, your cooking is delicious."
Without realizing it, Quintessa felt a closeness to Mrs. York. Speaking softly, she had her usual sharp edges softened; she looked just like an everyday girl enjoying her meal, her cheeks puffing with each bite. Mrs. York couldn't help but itch to pinch them more.
Rubbing her fingers together, Mrs. York patted Quintessa's head, "Then eat up, dear. Let me know what you want, and I'll bring it over tomorrow."
The old Quintessa might have said, "No trouble," or, "I eat anything, I'm not picky."
But today, she admitted, "Actually, I have a sweet tooth."
Tyrone chimed in, "Mom, I like meat."
Mrs. York pushed his face away with one hand.
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