Rebirth Revenge Is Everything (Ariana) novel Chapter 637

Lambert nodded and began unpacking the lunch boxes.

Kiara stood there awkwardly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. After a moment, she cleared her throat lightly and said, "Um, I have classes to get to, so I’ll head out now. Bye, Ariana sis, bye… uh, brother-in-law."

Ariana smiled warmly. "Stay and eat with us."

Lambert remained expressionless, neither objecting nor agreeing, even though he had personally prepared the meal for his wife.

But Kiara could sense the chill emanating from him. She quickly shook her head, putting on a serious face. "I don’t really like this kind of food. I’ll grab something with my classmates later."

Ariana sighed but called out to her anyway. "Come here."

Hesitating, Kiara took slow steps toward her sister. Without a word, Ariana glanced meaningfully at Lambert. He met her gaze briefly before pulling out his wallet. There wasn’t much cash inside, but he took out all of it and handed it to Kiara. "Get your own meal."

Kiara froze in surprise.

She turned to look at Ariana, who gave a soft laugh. "Take it. I don’t even know what kids your age like to eat these days. If you don’t want to join us, go treat your friends instead."

Kiara pressed her lips together but eventually accepted the money.

To Lambert and Ariana, the amount was trivial—barely two thousand. For people of their wealth, it wasn’t even enough to cover the tip for a single meal.

If it had been Jane, she would’ve complained—something like, "You’re so rich, and this is all you give me?" But Kiara understood. Ariana just wanted to slip her a little pocket money, nothing more.

No hidden intentions. Not even really pocket money, just a small gesture.

She didn't dwell on it further.

With a quick nod, she chirped, "Sure!" before happily skipping off with the money in hand.

Lambert watched Kiara's retreating figure, his brow arching slightly. "She's really nothing like Jane," he mused.

Ariana replied flatly, "Obviously."

Lambert sighed in resignation. He brought out the chicken soup, ladled a portion into a bowl, and moved to feed her. A faint blush crept onto Ariana's cheeks as she cleared her throat. "I can manage," she said, then glanced up at him and added softly, "Have you eaten yet?"

Lambert answered honestly, "No."

Ariana paused, then sighed. "Then let's eat together."

Lambert beamed. "Great."

Ariana: "..."

But "eating together," as Lambert envisioned it, wasn't quite so simple. He insisted on using the same bowl she had drunk from, earning himself several sharp glares. Unfazed, he happily sipped away.

After their pleasant lunch, Lambert pulled out a stack of documents, settling in to tackle the remaining paperwork.

Ariana watched him for a moment before a thought struck her. "Lambert," she asked, "how are Carson and Kevin doing? You didn’t leave them with your grandmother again, did you?"

Lambert's hand stilled for a second.

Then he met her gaze and said, "No."

Ariana relaxed—until he added, "I left them with the maids."

Ariana: "..."

Georgia's face paled even further.

Forcing a strained smile, she studied Gilbert's tightly controlled anger and his icy tone. "Gilbert, has something happened? If there's anything bothering you, just tell me. Don't keep it bottled up."

Gilbert replied tersely, "Isn’t that exactly what I’m about to do? Upstairs."

Georgia stiffened instantly.

Her heart pounded as she took in his stormy expression. A dreadful suspicion crept into her mind—had Gilbert somehow found out about *that incident* from a few days ago?

But how?

He had only just returned.

Unless… Ariana had called him and told him everything? The thought made her blood run cold. She bit her lip, a wave of bitter disappointment crashing over her. No matter how harsh her words had been, no matter how questionable her actions—she was still Ariana’s mother! Everything she did was for her daughter’s own good!

Swallowing the anger and unease churning in her chest, Georgia met Gilbert’s gaze briefly before silently following him upstairs.

Once the master and mistress had disappeared upstairs, the cook glanced uncertainly between the sizzling pan on the stove and the ceiling above. Wringing her hands, she turned to the butler. "Should I… keep cooking, or…?"

The butler hesitated, equally unsure.

After a long pause, he sighed. "Finish the dishes. The master just got back—he might come down to eat later."

Though he didn’t sound convinced himself.

The cook pressed her lips together, nodded, and returned to her work. The affairs of the household weren’t her concern. She was just the cook—her job was to prepare the meals, nothing more.