Nia Mitchell found it hard to believe what the butler had said. That Maxwell Peary never eats Chinese Cuisine? But these past few days, he seemed to enjoy eating it. He even fought her for it. "Young Madam, Young Master has never lived with a lady before. Please be patient with him," the butler earnestly advised her, hoping that the two would get along. Nia Mitchell turned back to her plate of fried dumplings. As she finished her words, Nia Mitchell put down her chopsticks and left the Dining Hall. Maxwell Peary, with his brows furrowed, sat in his chair, smoking and contemplating the events of recent days. Was it possible that he and Nia Mitchell were truly incompatible? So, the two of them... Surrounded by a cloud of smoke, his white shirt seemed to fade in and out of view, his hand holding a cigarette revealing the clear outline of each knuckle. As Nia Mitchell walked into the study room, the spectacle that greeted her was just that. Nia Mitchell pinched her nose, her face full of disgust. "Uncle, you said you wouldn’t smoke." Ugh, the smoke is choking. Seeing her enter, Maxwell Peary’s first reaction was to immediately put out his cigarette. Recalling Nia Mitchell’s behavior today, his action to snuff the cigarette paused. "Didn’t you say it was okay if I smoked occasionally?" Saying this, he took another deep puff in front of Nia Mitchell and slowly exhaled. His appearance, full of repressed desires, was almost irresistibly attractive. Nia Mitchell was also somewhat taken aback. Although she knew of Maxwell Peary’s good looks, she had never seen him smoking before. Nia Mitchell walked in front of him, intending to snatch away his cigarette and put it out, but didn’t dare to. After all, he was looking quite terrifying with that gloomy face on. Maxwell Peary was somewhat displeased to be described by such a word. Only Nia Mitchell and toddlers would resort to such behavior. She actually said that he, the esteemed Young Master Peary, who reigns supreme in both Mafia and Bussiness World, was having a tantrum. "Yes, you are throwing a tantrum." Nia Mitchell scrunched her nose; the closer she got to him, the stronger the smell of smoke. "What are you doing here?" Thɪs chapter is updated by 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝓷𝓮𝓽 Maxwell Peary did not want to argue with her about whether he was throwing a tantrum or not. Nia Mitchell pouted her lips and stopped pinching her nose. "You haven’t had a proper meal." She came to call him to have some more to eat, else he would be hungry. Feeling hungry at night was very uncomfortable; she knew it very well. He spoke coldly and continued to smoke. He had never spoken so coldly to her before; Nia Mitchell’s hand, hanging down at her side, clenched into a fist. After leaving the study room, Nia Mitchell sat in the Dining Hall, slumped over the table, with no appetite left to eat. The butler walked up to her, carrying freshly made hot fried dumplings. Nia Mitchell glanced at them and put down her chopsticks. Having said that, Nia Mitchell left the Dining Hall alone and went to the Living Room. In the empty Grand Villa, Nia Mitchell sat cross-legged on the sofa, visibly discontented. Just then, the doorbell of the Villa rang; someone was knocking on the door. Nia Mitchell shouted. She was in the Living Room and closest to the door, so it would be most efficient if she went. After quickly putting on her slippers, she ran to open the door. "Erm, sister-in-law?" Alan Morgan, seeing the person who opened the door, faltered. Why was it his sister-in-law opening the door? He found it odd. "Special Assistant Alan? Why have you come over at such a late hour?"