Sorry, I'm the Final Boss Now novel Chapter 47

Yesterday, Anna had ended up eating the breakfast she’d brought for Marguerite herself. She hadn’t expected Theobald to bring more today.

“I’ve already eaten,” Marguerite said.

Theobald nodded knowingly. “Did Mr. Spencer’s chef make you breakfast?”

Marguerite shook her head. “He made it himself. It was delicious!”

Theobald’s eyes widened. “But I thought you didn’t like things like sandwiches and cereal?”

His sister had always preferred hot, soupy breakfasts like raviolis. But most working professionals these days opted for cold, quick meals. George seemed like the type to grab a cold breakfast and a freshly brewed Americano—a typical elite-boss routine.

“You have no idea,” Marguerite said, buckling her seatbelt. “George’s tastes are just like mine. He loves raviolis for breakfast and spicy spaghetti for a late-night snack. And he knows how to make them all perfectly!”

Theobald fiddled with the beads on his wrist. “Who turned the billionaire tycoon into a master chef?” he wondered aloud.

Marguerite laughed. “I have no idea. But his chef has been out for a couple of days, otherwise he wouldn’t be cooking breakfast himself.”

Theobald glanced back at the villa’s gate. “Not only is Mr. Spencer a brilliant businessman and a leading philanthropist, but he can also cook. He’s the perfect man.”

Marguerite’s eyes widened. “Theobald, don’t you go falling for George. He’s into women, you know.”

Theobald’s temple throbbed. “I just meant I’ve decided to make him my role model. To focus solely on my career.”

Marguerite was relieved. “Good. You could learn a lot from him.”

Theobald nodded and started the car. “It’s so strange,” he said, changing the subject. “None of the villas in this neighborhood are for sale. Anna asked around, but no one is selling.”

At first, Marguerite had thought George might be difficult to get along with. But over the past few days, she’d found him to be incredibly pleasant. His coldness in high school was likely just due to their academic rivalry. Now that they weren’t competing, he was gentle and refined, his presence as refreshing as a spring breeze.

“It’s fine,” she said. “George is actually really nice. If you’re busy, you don’t have to pick me up every day. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me hanging around the villa. Besides, once I start school, I’ll be out all day anyway. Don’t worry about buying a house.”

“But you could ask around if anyone knows a good doctor for sleep disorders,” she added. “That would be a more permanent solution.” Although she’d seen countless doctors before with no luck, maybe things were different now.

“Alright,” Theobald agreed.

—

Anna took a cab to the office that day.

MoneyFlowsIn: [I wanna cosplay with Anna. She can cosplay me at work, and I’ll go play with Marguerite!]

—

Several days passed without any useful information. Every day, Marguerite would text Joseph: [Did you get into any fights today?]

And every day, he would coolly reply: [No.]

Cedric also kept her updated on Joseph’s every move, and it was true—no one was bothering him. Joseph was a model student, focusing on his studies, going to the bathroom, and eating his meals.

Marguerite was at a loss.

Her days fell into a routine: mooching breakfast off George in the morning, studying in Theobald’s office during the day. The exam formats had changed in the past eleven years, so she had a lot of catching up to do. Her goal was still to be the top scorer in Northpine. In the evenings, she would sometimes eat a late-night snack George made, or one he brought back from a restaurant.

Although she’d told Theobald he didn’t need to pick her up, he still sent either himself or Anna every morning, worried that George would think he was unreliable. Marguerite didn’t mind; she could pass the time anywhere.

One evening, as she was sitting on the sofa eating fruit, she received a message from Cedric.

[Our school is having a friendly basketball game against another school this Sunday. Want to come watch?]