chapter 48

"I'm afraid I can not eat this meal," Victor hissed, eyeing the dishes with distrust.

"Why?" Anderson asked, feigning innocence. "Did you think I poisoned it?"

"Have a bite from everything on the table," Victor continued, his tone firm and commanding.

Anderson arched an eyebrow. "My head chef can handle that. You do your job," he replied coolly.

"No, you should have a bite first," Victor insisted, his eyes narrowing with barely concealed hostility.

Anderson tightened his grip on his knife, the tension palpable. "If that will make our guest comfortable," he said with a forced smile. He sampled a bite from each dish on the table, his movements deliberate and calculated.

"Is our guest comfortable now?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

Victor ignored the question, starting to eat with an air of indifference. The room fell into an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the clinking of cutlery against china and the soft hum of the air conditioner.

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