The Billionaire's leash: Kneel for me, Prince Chapter 28: Amelia Visit

Sylvain was wiping down the counter, apron still tied around his waist. His sleeves rolled to his elbows, no one will recognize the now with the old Sylvain. The ran pot simred on the stove, broth thick and glossy with soy, ginger, and garlic.

He’d been at it since noon, and the cook teacher Silas sent had already co over before. He thought a little about fast food and ran was one of them.

The doorbell resounded in the silent room, Silas had said he’d be out till late. So there was no way it was Silas.

Sylvain dabs his hands on the apron and opens the door.

A woman stood there, smiling at him. She was putting on a V-york skirt and a blue blouse. Her silver tainted hair pulled back into a bun so neat it looked painted on.

She didn’t introduce herself, only staring at Sylvain. "Is Silas ho?" She asked.

"Yes.....sorry no, ma’am," Sylvain answered nervously.

"I’m Alia. Silas’s mother." Her gaze slid past him into the house, cataloguing the living room and the kitchen steam curling toward the ceiling. "He said I could co by."

Sylvain stepped back. "Of course, ma’am. Please co in."

Alia walked in without another word, heels clicking on the marble. She stopped in the foyer, eyes landing on the kitchen.

"So are you his friend?" she asked.

Sylvain hesitated. Friend wasn’t the word he’d use. But he could not embarrass himself in front of Silas mother.

"Yes, ma’am. I’m his friend." He lied through his teeth. His heart begins to beat fast, if Silas heard of this he would be so dead.

Alia’s lips twitched. "Ok. Then you won’t mind if I stay for dinner."

Sylvain’s stomach tightened. He’d only cooked for Silas as he was not expecting anyone. "Of course, ma’am. I made sothing, and I just finished cooking it. Please, have a seat."

He led her to the dining table. She sat and folded her arms. Her gaze landed on the chopping board and the salt shaker he’d left out.

"You cooked?" she asked.

"Just ran, ma’am. I hope it’s alright."

Alia didn’t answer.

Sylvain ladled the broth into a bowl, added noodles, egg, scallions, and a drizzle of chili oil.

He set it in front of her. His hands didn’t shake a bit, and he was proud of that.

He had put his mind into this and was sure it tasted nice. "Please, try it," he said. "I hope you like it."

Alia picked up the chopsticks. She lifted one noodle, held it for a second, then took a bite.

She chewed once and she set the chopsticks down."It’s salty and tasteless. Did you put salt in a ran, a ran at that?"

Sylvain’s face went hot. "I’m sorry, ma’am. I can make sothing else. I didn’t—"

Alia held up a hand. "No. It’s fine."

She took a napkin and wiped her mouth gently. She dabbed at her lips like she was cleaning off a stain.

"You’re apologizing for the food," she said. "Not for the fact that you cooked it. You should go to a cooking school or sothing. Is this what Sylvain eats everyday, my poor boy must be struggling to eat this."

Sylvain didn’t know how to answer that.

Alia stood and went to the living room. "Call Silas. Tell him to co ho. He should bring sothing I can actually eat."

Sylvain reached for his phone, fingers clumsy. "Yes, ma’am. Right away."

He dialed.

"Hello?" Silas answered, stiff and soothing as ever. Though the voice sounded haunting to Sylvain’s ears.

"Mom’s here," Sylvain said. "She wants you to co ho, and also co with food. I gave her my ran to eat and she said it was salty and tasteless."

A pause. "What? Is she at ho? You invited her to eat your food?"

"I—she said she was your mother and I thought—"

"Swallow it," Silas snapped. "I’ll be there in ten, entertain her still I co. I will get sothing for her to eat here." He hung up.

Sylvain looked at Alia. She was already sitting on the couch and scrolling on her phone.

"Will you take cold water or drink" he said. "I can get that for you."

Alia didn’t answer. She just continued to tap her phone. Sylvain brought her a bottle of water and poured it into a cup before sitting opposite her.

Ten minutes later, the door burst open. Silas stord in, carrying a plastic bag from a restaurant. He froze when he saw his mother.

"Mom," he said. "You’re here."

Alia rely stared at him and went back to her phone. "Should I announce my visit before you know I ca here?"

Silas’s eyes flicked to Sylvain, then to the untouched bowl of ran on the dining table. "You—what did you do?"

Sylvain stepped forward, and he kept twisting the hem of his clothes. " I’m sorry, I just wanted to get her sothing because she said she wants to eat dinner. I’ll make sothing else if that’s what you want."

Silas smirked at him. "You invited her to eat your al? You’re not supposed to do that."

Sylvain’s throat tightened. "I’m sorry. I thought—"

Silas cut him off. "Just take this." He shoved the plastic bag into Sylvain’s hands. "Serve it."

Sylvain took it, nodded, and went to the kitchen.

Silas turned to his mother. "Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were coming. I would’ve been more prepared, you should have called before coming here."

Alia’s eyes followed Sylvain into the kitchen. "Who is he?"

Silas’s jaw clenched. "Just an errand boy. He lives here and help manages thing around here."

Alia’s eyebrows rose. "An errand boy?"

"Yes. He’s not family. He’s just—he does what I tell him."

Alia’s eyes narrowed. "He calls you a friend, and you call him an errand boy."

Silas didn’t answer. He just stared back at the table.

Sylvain ca out and cleared the ran from the table. "The food is here".

Alia and Silas walked to the dining room and sat down in a chair. Sylvain returned with a plate of rice, grilled fish, and vegetables. He also set a glass of wine in front of Silas and Alia. "I hope this is better, ma’am."

Alia didn’t touch it. "Thank you."

Sylvain stood at the edge of the table, hands behind his back.

"Why are you not eating, sit down and eat with us." Alia motioned for a chair close to her, Sylvain stared at Silas before sitting down. "Thank you, ma’am."

They ate in silence until Alia broke the silence. "Sylvain what is your degree of studies?"

Sylvain froze in place, his fork was halfway to his mouth.

The food suddenly tastes like cardboard. He set it down carefully and nervously answered.

"M-MBA in business administration, ma’am," his voice barely above a whisper. "I finished last year."

Alia nods her head repeatedly, "Wow, that’s great. A really expensive degree."

She tapped her fork against the rim of her glass. "And where are you working?"

Sylvain’s throat went dry. He swallowed, but it did nothing for the lump lodged there. "I...I don’t have a job for now, ma’am. I have been looking for one."

Silas’s hands tightened around the fork. The fork was already bent from the force Silas exerted on it.

Alia’s lips pressed into a thin line. She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. She slid the phone across the table toward Sylvain.

The phone was unlocked and the contact app was lit on the screen.

"Input your number," she continued eating. "Your na also. If I see any available job from my clique, I will call you."

Sylvain stared at the phone. It felt like she was handing him a lifeline and a verdict at the sa ti.

His hands trembled as he picked up the phone. Silas gaze bore into him, his gaze was telling him not to but Sylvain refused to look at or read it through.

Sylvain handed the phone back to Alia. She collected it without looking at it and slid it into her bag.

She turns to Silas. "Why is he without a job when you have enough slots to slide him in?" She took a sip of the wine. "And Sylvain calls you a friend while you only see him as a re errand boy."

Silas didn’t say anything, he continued to eat his food without answering the question his mother asked.

Alia refused to let go. "You have many infrastructures that you can plug him into. A CEO of the biggest industry at that." She took another sip of wine, her eyes never leaving her son. "But you kept him here as a maid. Why Silas?"

Silas finally looked up, his eyes darkened. "Because that’s what he’s good at, Mom. He is not cut out for anything else."

That word hits Sylvain like a slap, his hands dropped to his lap and he stared down.

Alia’s laugh was short and humorless. "You’re wrong Silas, this is the first ti I have heard of a person with an MBA working as a slave." She turned to Sylvain "MBA from where?"

Sylvain swallows hard. "Wharton, ma’am."

Alia went silent her eyes widened for a second. "Wharton," she repeated. "And you are happy cooking ran for him."

She turned to Silas now, and the temperature in the room dropped to ten degrees. "Silas, when did you beco this..... wasteful? I have always known you as a smart child. Why this now?"