Chapter 50
Nash wasn’t interested in money—at least not in the way most people were—but he wasn’t opposed to it either. After all, when he first came down from the mountain, he only had eight dollars to his name. Living a stable life required money, and he knew it all too well.
When Walter saw Nash take a swig from his glass, a smile spread across his face.
The gesture of accepting the toast wasn’t just about drinking; it signified Nash had forgiven Kai for his offense the day before.
Queenie, however, watched Nash closely, her displeasure growing with each passing second. But with her grandfather present, she knew better than to express her irritation too openly.
As Nash continued eating with apparent enjoyment, Walter realized it wasn’t the best time to bring up his wife’s illness. He picked up his own cutlery, forcing a smile, and said, “Queenie, why don’t you have a bite?”
Since the Grandmaster had invited them to dine with him, Walter knew it would be disrespectful not to eat and participate.
Queenie glanced at the food on the table, her face scrunching in distaste. “I don’t want to eat this,” she said, turning up her nose. “It’s more suited for dogs.”
Her words were harsh, not just about the food, but about the people who had prepared it.
“Presumptuous!” Walter snapped, slamming his hand down on the table, his eyes flashing with anger. “Try every dish, or I’ll cut off your pocket money,” he threatened.
What was she thinking? Miracle Doctor Calcraft, the man who was dining with them, was eating happily—and she had the gall to humiliate him in front of everyone.
Queenie’s face turned even paler after her grandfather reprimanded her. She looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t want to eat it… I’ll just forgo my pocket money if that’s what it takes.”
Walter’s expression darkened. He turned to a middle-aged man in a suit behind him and said coldly, “Call Matthias immediately and tell him to cut off his daughter’s pocket money starting today. If he doesn’t, I’ll cut off their family from the fund.”
Matthias Watson was Walter’s second son and Queenie’s father.
The middle-aged man nodded with a smile before pulling out his phone to make the call.
Queenie panicked. She stood up suddenly, her voice pleading. “Don’t call him! I’ll eat, I’ll eat…”
She knew her father would still give her pocket money, even if her grandfather didn’t. But if Walter called him, Matthias would surely obey, cutting her off without a second thought. How could she live without the lavish lifestyle she was accustomed to?
Nash, noticing Queenie’s distressed expression from the corner of his eye, couldn’t help but smile inwardly. A spoiled princess like her had never truly experienced hardship. It was time she learned.
Without missing a beat, he turned to the proprietor and ordered, “Serve the princess some haggis soup.”
At the next table, a young man couldn’t hold back, spitting out a mouthful of soup in surprise.
Queenie’s gaze flicked toward him, her eyes narrowing. The man quickly covered his mouth, flustered, but the damage was done.
Walter, looking puzzled, turned to Brian. “Dr. Tanner, what exactly is haggis soup?”
Brian, his expression a little strained but still polite, explained with a smile, “It’s a famous delicacy from the Aires villages in Southeast Dalamund. The owner of this restaurant is an Aires.”
Queenie picked up a fork, her fingers trembling with distaste. She stabbed a piece of sausage and, pinching her nose with one hand, squeezed her eyes shut as she forced the piece into her mouth. She swallowed it without chewing, and it immediately lodged in her throat, causing her to choke.
Panicked, she grabbed a glass of water, taking a gulp to wash it down. But when the liquid hit her throat, she sputtered and coughed violently.
To her horror, it wasn’t water. It was alcohol—Nash’s glass of wine.
Disgusted, she threw the glass aside, a look of revulsion on her face.
She turned to her grandfather with pleading eyes. “I ate it. You can’t cut off my pocket money…”
Her stomach was still churning from the taste of the sausage, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of nausea.
Walter, unbothered by her theatrics, responded coolly, “Dr. Calcraft has specially ordered soup for you. You’ll finish it later.”
Queenie opened her mouth to protest but quickly shut it when she saw the steely look in her grandfather’s eyes. She lowered her head in reluctant acquiescence.
Some time passed, and soon the restaurant owner brought out a thick pot of soup.