Mr. Champion's keen gaze tracked every microexpression crossing Sandra's face. His thin lips, previously pressed into a tight line, now quirked into the faintest hint of a smile.
After studying her for several silent moments, he cleared his throat. "You barely touched your dinner. I ordered all this for you. Dig in."
"Huh?" She looked up, confused. "Aren't you hungry?"
"No. Eat up. We'll box whatever you can't finish."
The words made Sandra's breath catch—this felt like a dream. It was just like before, when Mr. Champion's frosty exterior barely concealed the care he secretly held for her.
Meeting his eyes, she unconsciously murmured, "Second Brother..."
"What?" He frowned, his explanation awkward. "I just don't want Paula cooking for you at midnight. Don't overthink it."
Sandra bur
