Chapter 311

The dining room in the villa. The wooden table was packed with dishes—colorful, fragrant, mouthwatering. But Camila Harrington had zero appetite. Her mind was stuck on something Prescott Ellington had said just two hours ago: “Our daughter.” Now that he knew Lottie was his child, would she still be able to leave with her tomorrow? “What are you thinking about?” Prescott paused mid-bite, eyes drifting toward her. “Nothing,” she replied with a shrug, picking up her chopsticks. She still had no appetite, but forced herself to nibble a few bites. “Mama, can you get me that one?” Lottie was sitting in the new high chair Prescott had specifically told the maid to buy. She stretched her tiny neck, pointing to a plate of garlic ribs just out of reach. “You can’t eat that, Lottie,” Camila said, shaking her head gently. “I won’t eat it,” Lottie explained seriously. “It’s for Daddy.” She peeked shyly at Prescott. Daddy looked too skinny—he needed more meat. She was determined to feed him lots and