?Chapter 777:


    Eileen noticed that Conroy was still in his office attire, though it was somewhat rumpled. His shirt was partly untucked, his belt loosened, and his tiey abandoned on the couch. A faint, familiar scent of perfume lingered in the air.


    Eileen couldn’t quite pinpoint where she had smelled the scent before.


    “Well, Eileen, let’s head to the kitchen and see what we can whip up for dinner,” Conroy suggested, giving Eileen a look.


    Eileen followed him to the kitchen and started searching through the refrigerator, which was fully stocked. Inside, there were steaks, chicken, a variety of fresh vegetables.


    “Then, Mr. Dawson, we can’t cook dinner here. We’ll go out instead,” Conroy whispered firmly to Eileen.


    Eileen pulled out the steak. “But dining out is costly. We could cut the costs in half by cooking here. Besides, you’ve got everything we need in the fridge.”


    Conroy halted her actions and demanded, “Didn’t you hear me? We’re not eating at home. I’ll treat Mr. Dawson to dinner at a restaurant!”


    His voice grew almost ferocious. Worried that Bryan might overhear, he peeked toward the door and lowered his voice. “Just do what I say.”


    “We can’t afford to be extravagant. A meal out, by Mr. Dawson’s standards, might cost a month’s sry. Mr. Dawson is understanding. He won’t object to eating here,” Eileen said seriously.


    If it hadn’t been for the sincerity and innocence in Eileen’s eyes, Conroy might have thought she was purposely causing trouble for him.


    Feel inspired by g?lnσν????s???????


    “You—” Conroy began. “Mr. Dawson, do you prefer beef or chicken? We also have potatoes and broli. What’s your choice?”


    Eileen suddenly shouted to Bryan in the living room, deliberately ignoring Conroy.


    “Mr. Finch prefers either is fine with me,” Bryan responded calmly.


    Conroy quickly said, “No need for that. We’ll go with whatever Mr. Dawson prefers.”


    Eileen interpreted this as approval to select ingredients based on her preferences. She set aside the beef, chose the chicken, and picked some of her favorite side dishes.


    As soon as she finished selecting the ingredients, Bryan entered the kitchen. He rolled up his sleeves and said, “It’s bad enough we dropped in without warning. Can I help with anything?”


    “There’s no need for you to do anything here!” Conroy reacted as if he were confronting a major challenge and quickly ushered Bryan out. “These dishes are simple. I’ve got it all covered. Dawson, please just make yourselffortable.”


    “Mr. Finch, you know how to cook?” Bryan asked, his tone rxed.


    “Then let’s have Mr. Finch cook. Eileen, I’m eager to taste his cooking,” Bryan said.


    Conroy, taken aback, felt as though he had been cornered by his own words. It must have been the suddenness of their visit that made him feel something was amiss.


    Conroy quickly concurred with enthusiasm, only asking Eileen to help by washing the vegetables.


    After finishing the preparations, Eileen left the kitchen and sat in the living room. Her eyesnded on a Chanel handbag tucked under the sofa. She nced toward the staircase and noticed a beige stocking in the corner.


    .


    .


    .