The Heiress They Lost Came Back Overpowered

Leo Grant’s eyes glinted, and he heaved a dramatic sigh. "Is a simple verbal compliment all I get? Isn’t that a bit perfunctory, darling? I guess I’m not that great after all."

Yvonne Lowell looked up at him. He had already turned back to focus on searing the steak, leaving her with a view of the back of his head, as if he had just been speaking off-the-cuff.

’Heh. Does he really think I don’t know what that rascal is up to? Am I going to let him get his way?!’

’I... Fine. With such a handsome man right in front of me, of course I will!’

She went around to his side, stood on her tiptoes, and planted a big, loud smooch on his cheek.

SMOOCH. A red lipstick mark immediately appeared on Leo Grant’s left cheek.

Hearing the self-made sound effect, Yvonne Lowell couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

"So, how about now? Does Comrade Grant still think I’m just going through the motions?"

Leo Grant’s expression softened as he fought to suppress a massive grin.

He cleared his throat. "Well, it’s only a little better than before."

"Comrade Grant, you’re pushing your luck a little," Yvonne Lowell said, nudging his arm with her forehead.

"I can’t help it. My girlfriend gives me all the confidence I need. But you don’t have to be jealous. I think your boyfriend is just as amazing as my girlfriend is."

Leo Grant’s hands never stopped moving, but his words were just asking for a smack.

Yvonne Lowell rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Complimenting me while also complimenting yourself? You’re breaking character again."

"What character do I have? I’m just a plain, unremarkable househusband."

Leo Grant shrugged innocently, picked up a strip of steak, blew on it, and held it to Yvonne Lowell’s lips.

"Have a taste. I cut the steak into strips before searing it. It cooks faster and is easier for you to eat. But I didn’t have time to marinate it, so I just seasoned it directly."

Yvonne Lowell opened her mouth and took a bite. The flavor made her eyes light up. "It’s delicious. Cooked perfectly."

Receiving Yvonne Lowell’s approval, the imaginary tail behind Leo Grant started wagging so fast it was a blur.

"Once I finish this runny egg and toss the noodles, we can eat."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

’I should be able to lend a hand, right? Wasn’t I totally awesome at hacking up that crab last time?’

’After all, watching him bustle around the kitchen all alone made my conscience ache... a little. Like, 40% worth.’

Leo Grant’s hand, holding the spatula, paused. "No need, I’m almost done. You just stay put and be good. My kitchen isn’t explosion-proof."

A little sheepish from his jab, Yvonne Lowell wrinkled her nose. "Okay, then I’ll go out and wait for you."

With that, she scurried off to the dining room, not forgetting to cop a feel of his abs on her way out.

She left happy, but poor Leo Grant stood frozen to the spot, almost burning the egg.

...

When Leo Grant came out carrying the noodles, he saw his Little Marshmallow sitting at the table, waiting eagerly to be fed, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the kitchen.

When she saw him—or more precisely, the plate in his hands—Yvonne’s eyes visibly brightened.

’He couldn’t help but find it funny. Apparently, his handsome face was worthless in the presence of food.’

He placed the plate in front of her. "Go on, eat."

"Hm? Aren’t you eating?"

Yvonne Lowell picked up her fork and noticed that he didn’t head back to the kitchen for a second plate. Instead, he sat down right beside her.

"I’m not hungry. I had a late dinner," Leo Grant said, propping his chin on one hand as he watched her.

"Alright then..."

She speared a piece of beef, stuffed it in his mouth, and then, ignoring his intense gaze, began to eat.

Leo Grant poured a glass of warm water and placed it in front of her. "Slow down. Didn’t you eat anything to tide you over when you got back this afternoon?"

"I didn’t have much of an appetite. I just had a few bites and went to sleep," Yvonne Lowell replied after swallowing the noodles in her mouth.

’What kind of damn class was that, leaving my darling this hungry...’

After slurping down the last of the noodles, Yvonne Lowell was stuffed. She gave him a thumbs-up. "So delicious!"

Leo Grant ruffled her hair, then stood up and held out his hand. "Carry you to the living room?"

"Okay!" Yvonne Lowell laughed, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her to the living room in a koala hug.

When they got to the living room, the rascal didn’t put her down. Instead, he plopped right down on the sofa with her still in his lap.

"Put me down."

Leo Grant’s hands tightened around her waist. "My lap is more comfortable than the sofa."

The corner of Yvonne Lowell’s mouth twitched. ’The sofa, at least, is soft, isn’t it?’

’Oh well. A free human cushion. Might as well use it.’

Leo Grant gave her a light peck on the lips. "If you like it, I’ll make it for you again sometime. I also know how to make your favorite braised pork ribs."

Yvonne Lowell was surprised. "For real? You know how to make other things?"

’Aside from that one barbecue, I thought boiling noodles was the extent of his culinary skills.’

’Why can everyone in the world cook except me?! I’ve blown up so many kitchens and I still can’t learn?! Why?!! AHH!!’

"Yeah, I learned from my dad in middle school. He said you don’t have to cook, but you have to know how. As a result, once I learned, I became the family cook instead of him."

Hearing this, a scene inexplicably popped into Yvonne Lowell’s head:

A teenage Leo Grant gets home from school, drops his backpack, and walks into the kitchen still in his school uniform to tie on his personal pink apron.

With a stony face, he starts cooking expressionlessly, sits down to eat expressionlessly, and accepts his parents’ praise expressionlessly.

’Isn’t this the kitchen version of the "stone-faced while washing underwear" trope?’

Forcibly suppressing a laugh, Yvonne Lowell patted his shoulder.

"Amazing. Comrade Grant is truly a role model for our generation, a paradigm of the modern super-husband."

"It’s nothing. I don’t know that much, just a little of both Chinese and Western cuisine," Leo Grant said nonchalantly, playing with her hair.

The corner of Yvonne Lowell’s mouth twitched. ’Uh, buddy, if your expression weren’t so damn smug, I might actually believe you were being humble.’

Yvonne Lowell cupped his face with both hands, examining it from every angle and squishing his cheeks, her expression full of mock confusion.

"Wha’s wong?"

Leo Grant’s face was squished out of shape by her hands, his words muffled.

Yvonne Lowell said with feigned seriousness, "I just wanted to see if anything was written on your face. Turns out, there is."

Leo Grant raised an eyebrow. "And what does it say?"

"King of the Humblebrag."

As she spoke, she tapped her fingertips on a few random spots on his face.

Once his face was free, Leo Grant’s hand on her waist tightened, pulling her closer.

The predatory glint in his eyes was impossible to ignore, and his voice was low and husky.

"The King of the Humblebrag is exhausted from all this cooking. It wouldn’t be too much to collect a service fee from Eldest Miss Lowell, would it?"

Before she could answer, he lowered his head and kissed her.

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