Valeria stared at her mother, stunned.
Five minutes ago, Dr. Victoria Quinn had been cold as stone—stern, silent, and visibly unimpressed with her daughter's secret marriage. But now? Now she was smiling.
Not a warm, glowing smile. No. This was the tight-lipped, reluctant kind that only appeared when Victoria found herself begrudgingly intrigued.
Valeria turned to Aiden, eyes wide with disbelief.
You actually did it.
CLANG!
A loud metallic crash rang out from the kitchen.
All three rushed toward the noise and found Dr. Richard Quinn clutching his hand over the sink, a chef's knife on the floor beside a crimson smear.
"What happened?" Leo—Valeria's younger brother—stormed in, half-dressed and looking ready for battle. His shoulders slumped when he saw it was just a kitchen mishap.
Richard winced but tried to smile. "It's nothing. Just a slip with the knife while slicing steak."
Valeria grabbed the first-aid kit and peeled his hand open. "Dad! You should've called one of us."
"It's a scratch. I've had worse from shaving," he muttered, though the dangling bit of skin suggested otherwise.
In truth, he'd been hovering outside the study, trying to eavesdrop on Aiden's performance. The distraction had cost him.
"You managed to cut yourself while alone and calm? That's... impressive," Leo said, giving a sarcastic thumbs-up.
Richard glared at him. "Your commentary is as helpful as a flat tire in a blizzard."
Once patched up, Richard moved to resume cooking, but Valeria nudged him toward the living room. "Why don't you rest? Aiden and I can handle dinner."
"Oh, that's really not necessary," he said quickly, visibly alarmed by the prospect.
Leo leaned against the doorway, grinning. "Sis, come on. The only thing you've ever successfully cooked is toast. And even that's generous."
Valeria scowled. "How hard can it be? Cooking's just heating things until they stop being raw."
Leo smacked his forehead. "If that were true, boiling sneakers would be a delicacy."
Victoria sighed and stepped forward. "I'll cook."
She didn't love it. In fact, she barely tolerated it. But with her husband injured, her daughter clueless, and her son chronically unhelpful, she knew what had to be done.
Leo groaned. "Mom, no offense, but your cooking is basically scrambled eggs in three formats."
Victoria narrowed her eyes. The idea of giving up and ordering takeout felt like surrendering her entire worldview.
"We're eating at home," she declared, heading for the kitchen with the grim determination of a general leading a hopeless charge.
Valeria pointed at Leo. "You talk a big game. Why don't you make something?"
"I have the self-awareness not to poison people," he said, already pulling up a food delivery app. "Sushi's on me."
Then, out of nowhere, Aiden spoke. "I could cook something."
The room went still.
Four heads turned. Four sets of eyes blinked.
"You?" came the collective response, layered with disbelief, amusement, and one faint flicker of hope.
Leo snorted. "Great. Another man who thinks he's Gordon Ramsay because he once used sea salt."
Richard tilted his head. "You can cook, Aiden?"
"A little," Aiden said casually, but the stakes were obvious. Letting his in-laws eat takeout on the night of his first visit? Social suicide.
Victoria raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "Is that true?"
Valeria froze. She'd known this man for less than 72 hours. Did he cook? No clue. But she couldn't admit that with her mother analyzing every syllable.
Plastering on a brave smile, she nodded. "Way better than me."
Leo laughed. "Low bar, but okay."
Before she could throttle her brother, Valeria hustled her parents into the living room and flipped on the news. Then she dragged Aiden by the sleeve into the kitchen.
She lowered her voice. "Please tell me you can actually cook."
"We'll find out," Aiden said, rolling up his sleeves.
The prep station was set—marinated meats, prepped seafood, fresh vegetables, even pasta dough. Clearly, Richard had planned a feast.
Valeria pulled out her phone. "Okay, we follow recipes. Your hands, my genius—we're golden."
"Why do you get to be the genius?" Aiden muttered.
"Because I'm prettier."
He sighed. "Hard to argue with that."
He picked up a knife and started chopping with brisk, clean precision.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Valeria blinked. "Wait… you actually know how to use that thing?"
"Told you."
She scrolled through an app. "How about eggplant fritters with beef?"
"Sure."
He mixed the ground meat, egg, and spices, shaped it into tight rounds, and fried them until golden, then simmered them in broth.
First dish—done.
Valeria gawked. "Hold on. I thought we were making eggplant fritters?"
"No eggplant," he replied, not missing a beat.
She opened the produce drawer. "We've got cucumbers?"
"Then we're making cucumber fritters."
"That's not a thing."
"Now it is."
He moved on, deveining shrimp with surgical precision and setting them in a steamer. Next, he whipped together a garlic-chili-lime dipping sauce.
Second dish—done.
Valeria handed him the cucumbers. "Here. Cleaned and peeled."
"You sanded off the skin?"
"I was being thorough!"
Instead of frying them, he pivoted—slicing them thin and tossing them with noodles, sesame paste, vinegar, and chili oil.
Valeria stared. "That's cold cucumber—uh, salad. Fancy cucumber salad."
"Let's call it 'fusion,'" Aiden said, smirking.
Then came the beef stir-fry.
WHOOSH!
A burst of fire exploded from the wok.
Valeria shrieked and leapt back. "Jesus! Are you cooking or summoning a fire demon?"
Richard sat up from the couch. "Is that… normal?"
"Totally fine!" Valeria called. "Just a little flame!"
WHOOSH!
"Never mind—it's back!"
Everyone in the living room turned toward the kitchen in awe.
Inside, oil hissed and popped, flames licked at the sides of the pan, and Aiden stood calmly at the center of the chaos, wielding his spatula like a seasoned warrior.
Leo peered around the corner, eyes wide.
"…Is this guy auditioning for a cooking show or conducting a ritual sacrifice?"
Valeria shook her head slowly, watching her fake husband tame the kitchen like a man possessed.
She didn't know what shocked her more—the fact that he was actually pulling it off…
…or the fact that her mother might have just started liking him.