Owen stared at him, momentarily stunned.


    "What are you waiting for?" Lionel roared.


    "Yes, sir!" Owen scurried out of the office, his heart pounding. He had never seen Lionel so furious over anything rted to Hannah before. Could it be that Mr. Rosenberg was actually starting to care about her? Why else would he be so possessive?


    Something felt off. Owen quickly sent a message to Sandra.


    Lionel had Owen send him the photo. He zoomed in, scrutinizing every detail. The man''s shirt was made of high-quality fabric, clearly expensive. It looked vaguely familiar. But what really caught his eye was the bottle of wine on the table, worth a small fortune.


    Quennel had brought the exact same wine to thest family dinner.


    Could the man in the photo be Quennel?


    The thought ignited a fire in his chest. He recalled the way his brother always looked at Hannah-it wasn''t right. Had Quennel really stooped so low as to make a move on his own sister-inw?


    His eyes narrowed in suspicion.


    Later that afternoon, after a source at headquarters confirmed Quennel had left for the day, Lionel drove to his brother''s apartment.


    After work, Hannah bought the ingredients to make savory sausage rolls. She knew Quennel preferred traditional pastries, so she had spent the previous evening bookmarking recipes.


    Once they were baked, she arranged them on a te and carried them upstairs. They were good hot or cold, and she wanted to get them to him before he got too busy with work.


    Quennel, dressed in casual loungewear, answered the door. He smiled when he saw the te in her hands and stepped aside to let her in.


    "Is there anything you can''t do,


    Hannah? You''ve mastered it all," he said, picking one up. "This tastes


    even better than the ones from et


    bakery If you ever get tired of being awyer, I''ll fund a pastry shop for I''ll a p you. I''ll have it publicly listed within three years!”


    "Deal. My childhood dream was actually to open a little bakery," Hannah said with a shy smile, her heart warming as she watched him enjoy the food But a shadow of sadness fell over her.


    Her cooking used to be terrible; she could burn a fried egg. But when Lionel''s constant diet of takeout started to ruin his health, she had decided to learn. She spent every evening after work in the kitchen, burning her arms with sttering oil so many times that faint scars still remained. To keep him from getting bored, she learned to cook various cuisines and mastered all sorts of pastries, even getting certified.


    And for what? For him to take two bites and push the te away, or eventually, to not even look at it at all. A bitter smile touched her lips at the memory.


    Quennel noticed her change in expression. “It''s his loss," he said softly. "It doesn''t matter why you learned. The skill is yours now, and that''s what counts."


    Hannah looked up, his words pulling her from her dark thoughts. A genuine smile spread across her face. "You''re right! If you like them, I''ll make them for you whenever I have time!"


    "I''d like that very much."