The next morning, Shawn was still home from school. He woke up late, long after breakfast was over. When a maid offered to make him something, he puffed out his cheeks.
"I'm not eating any of your horrible food. Go get my mother. I want her to cook for me."
He was genuinely hungry after not eating all night, and all he wanted was the nourishing soup Rebekah used to make.
When the maid found Rebekah, she was getting ready to leave.
"I don't have time to cook for him. You can take care of him."
"But the young master says our food is terrible."
"Then let him be hungry."
Rebekah's expression didn't change as she picked up her bag and headed downstairs.
Shawn was sitting on the sofa, waiting haughtily for her to come and beg for his forgiveness. But she walked right past him without a glance, heading straight for the door.
He started to panic. "Where are you going?"
Rebekah paused and turned back. "I'm going out."
"Didn't I tell the maid to have you make me breakfast? What could be so important for a housewife to do right now? Go make me that nourishing soup you used to make!"
His entitled tone made her frown. She couldn't understand how the son she had raised so carefully had turned into this.
"The cooks in the kitchen can make that soup. Ask them."

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