LFS Mall.
Spago Beverly Hills, upper level.
Ever since the k********g incident at the fried chicken restaurant in San Francisco, Leah had started sitting closer to the hall entrance. Frederick mentioned that the restaurant had a new chef who had created some new dishes, but Leah didn’t feel much of a difference.
It tasted the same as before.
No change.
Since it was Frederick’s kind offer to treat her to dinner, Leah didn’t say much, simply focused on eating. At this point, it had become a conditioned reflex for her — she could eat casually in front of anyone, except Frederick. He would always nag her.
"Eat a good balance of meat and vegetables."
"You’re eating too little."
"You’ve only eaten half the scallops."
"You should drink more of the soup, it's nutritious."
He
