Revenge After Prison: Never Forgiven - Chapter 269: Chapter 269

Sebastian delivered a swift jab to James' side.
"Yow!" James yelped and twisted away in exaggerated agony.
Abigail burst out laughing, the sound light and infectious.
There wasn't much either James or Warren could do to help in the kitchen.
As Sebastian took charge of dinner, Abigail lingered by his side, chatting with him as he worked.
"You should go relax. Watch some TV or something. It won't take long," Sebastian said, glancing her way.
Instead, she leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice like they were sharing a secret. "I'm starving. Think I could sneak a crab before the others?"
Amused, Sebastian lifted the steamer lid and plucked out a freshly cooked crab, steam curling upward in fragrant coils.
Abigail reached for it eagerly, but he raised it out of her reach. "It's hot. Let me crack it open for you. Or have you forgotten what happened last time when you tried to do it yourself?"
"I'll be careful. Come on, don't fuss. I can manage. Go back to your cooking," she insisted, still reaching for the crab, her eyes fixed on it like a determined child.
Just then, as she leaned in, he stole a kiss, barely a brush on her lips, soft and fleeting.
His scent, clean and distinct, slipped into her senses like a quiet current. It lingered, unexpected and enveloping.
She looked up immediately, surprised.
Sebastian smiled, but his gaze ducked away. "I'll peel it for you. Just give me a minute. I'll be quick."
"All right," she murmured, her face a touch warm, her thoughts still caught on the kiss.
She stood quietly at his side as he worked, stealing glances at his profile.
When she noticed the tips of his ears turning red, she couldn't help but smile.
So he really was that earnest. The reputation, the charm, and the carefree flirtation were clearly all an act.
"I picked the plumpest male crab for you," he said, finally placing the clean meat in front of her. "Go ahead, have a taste."
Abigail took it with a small nod and settled into a seat at the kitchen island.
Sebastian stayed by the stove, monitoring the simmering dishes while absentmindedly cracking more crab legs for her.
"You didn't eat much at lunch?" he asked, handing her another piece.
"I ordered in, but it wasn't great. I've been spoiled by your cooking," she said with a quiet laugh.
In truth, she just didn't care for delivery food. Even the expensive ones always seemed oddly lifeless once packed up and delivered.
Boxed meals somehow never quite hit the mark.
"You're probably ordering the cheap stuff," Sebastian said, giving her a sideways look. "I saw your receipts. You're not exactly splurging."
Abigail chewed thoughtfully. "I did try one of the fancy ones once. Still didn't taste right. Nothing like restaurant food. After that, I went back to the cheaper ones. Besides, my assistant and even Jeremiah always go for the budget options."
"So what, peer pressure? You didn't want to be the one ordering the premium set?" Sebastian teased.
"Pretty much," Abigail admitted with a resigned sigh. "And honestly, I've never been in the habit of spending that much on food. I used to do my own grocery shopping. I know what vegetables cost. Spending thirty bucks on a salad just feels dumb.
"Look at you. Your basic tossed salad tastes better than most of the ones they charge an arm and a leg for."
"Want me to start bringing you lunch, then?" Sebastian asked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. At this rate, he was going full-time domestic.
"Really?" Her eyes lit up before she could stop herself.
He smiled at her enthusiasm. "Really. I'll bring something tomorrow."
Abigail frowned, though she didn't seem entirely displeased. "This doesn't feel fair. Jeremiah's practically my assistant already, and now you're offering to feed me too? Aren't I getting a little too comfortable?"
Sebastian saw right through her faux protest.
"What else is a boyfriend for, if not to take care of you?" he said, holding out a piece of crab meat to her lips. "Come on. Open up."
Without hesitation, Abigail did as he asked.
He slipped the bite into her mouth, catching a glimpse of her small, neat teeth, perfectly aligned except for two slightly crooked ones near the front, just enough to be charming.
He leaned in again, his voice dropping low. "I should tell you something. Probably not what you want to hear. Daniella may have had plastic surgery. My grandpa reached out through his overseas contacts, but there's been no trace."
"If she's changed her face, we won't recognize her, will we?" Abigail asked quietly.
"No. Not unless she wants us to. And if she's planning to come back, she'll be watching us while we stay in plain sight."
That was the real danger. She could already be nearby, invisible, biding her time. With someone like her, that kind of silence was the sharpest threat.
"What about fingerprints?" Abigail asked after a pause.
"They're not foolproof anymore," Sebastian said. "With current technology, even fingerprints can be altered. Scarring the skin is enough to disrupt identification."
Abigail stared at the pile of cracked shells on her plate. "Makes sense. If she went as far as surgery, she wouldn't overlook her fingerprints either."