Chapter 1111:
Unaware of the admiration she was receiving, Christina returned to Cloudcrest Estate. She went straight to Dylan’s room, her hand closing around the doorknob. When she found it locked, she let out a quiet sigh of relief.
She had told Dylan he was to stay inside and keep the door locked whenever she was away. He wasn’t to leave under any circumstances. If the servants brought meals, he was to wait until they were gone before opening the door. She fretted that if he interacted with anyone, his unusual state might be discovered.
Christina rapped lightly on the door, but there was no sound from inside. Her brows drew together. She took out her phone and dialed Dylan’s number. The call was answered instantly, as if Dylan had been waiting with the phone in hand.
“Chrissie, when are you coming back?” Dylan’s voice carried a faint note of grievance, like a soft complaint—or perhaps weakness from hunger.
Christina suddenly realized something and quickly said, “I’m right outside your room. Open the door.”
The moment her words fell, the door flew open.
Through the still-connected call, she heard the footsteps that confirmed Dylan had rushed straight for the door.
“Chrissie!” Dylan exclaimed, throwing his arms around her. “I’ve been waiting forever. I thought you weren’t coming back.”
“Let’s get inside first,” Christina said. She pulled him gently into the room and shut the door behind them.
“Chrissie, can you take me with you next time?” Dylan asked, clutching her arm.
“You can’t go out like this,” Christina replied, patting his head. “Did you have dinner?”
“No. You told me to wait in the room,” Dylan answered, blinking up at her with clear, innocent eyes.
Christina sighed. “Next time, make sure to have your meals. I’ll have someone prepare food for you.”
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“No, I want you to make spaghetti for me,” Dylan said stubbornly.
“But I’m not good at cooking,” Christina admitted. Her skills in the kitchen were far from reliable.
“Spaghetti made by Chrissie would be the best,” Dylan replied, his voice brimming with unshakable faith.
Christina froze for a beat, struck by the contrast between Dylan’s reaction and Brendon’s. “Alright. I’ll make spaghetti—and add a fried egg on top,” she said at last.
“Chrissie is the best!” Dylan declared with a genuine smile.
“You wait here,” Christina instructed, hurrying out of the room to prepare the meal.
Watching her figure disappear through the door, Dylan’s lips curved into a sly smile, his eyes glinting with quiet mischief.
Inside the room, Christina carried a steaming bowl of spaghetti to the table and set it down with care.
“It smells delicious,” Dylan remarked, savoring the rich aroma that drifted upward.
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