Evening had just fallen over the Lockheart villa, the orange glow of the sunset blending with the soft hum of city lights below. Inside the kitchen, the air was already warm and rich with the smell of sizzling oil.
Claude Lockheart—CEO by day, reluctant husband-chef by night—was currently standing in front of the stove with sleeves rolled up, brows furrowed, and an expression of total concentration.
Beside him, Mio Lockheart leaned against the counter with her arms crossed and a mischievous grin on her face.
"So," Claude muttered, his tone deceptively calm, "let me confirm again—you want an entire crispy chicken. One whole bird. Fried until golden, then grilled with barbecue sauce."
"Yes," Mio replied simply, her eyes glimmering. "Crispy first, saucy later."
Claude glanced sideways at her, unimpressed. "You do realize I'm not a restaurant kitchen, right? That's a full-course request."
