Ignatius Leclair spoke slowly, his phoenix eyes deep as he looked at Delphine, and said in a low voice, "Even if I lose the right of inheritance and have nothing to my name, I still have some skills. I can make a living for you and Benjamin and Nicholas. For example, as a chef or a flower farmer. I seem to be pretty good at both."
The man's thin lips curved into a smile as he thought it was quite a good idea. Didn't Old Xie work as a carpenter for seven or eight years? Becoming a chef didn't sound bad either.
Delphine was dumbfounded and couldn't utter a single word. She couldn't imagine Ignatius Leclair dressed in a pristine white chef's uniform, wielding a spatula and cooking for descendants of prestigious families in Southeast Asia.
Yeats Howard, just coming downstairs, nearly fell off the stairs when he heard this. A chef? A flower farmer? His uncle was truly shameless.
