Rebirth: A Second chance at life
Chapter 112: He is missing her cooking..

Chapter 112: He is missing her cooking..

On the other side of the city, Veronica stood in the grand kitchen of the Brown Estate, pretending to supervise breakfast preparations.

Dressed immaculately in silk loungewear, she moved around the polished counters with an air of casual authority, pointing here and there as top-tier chefs obeyed her commands without question.

She hadn’t cooked a thing herself—of course—but she acted every bit the hostess, giving orders as if she owned the place.

And to many in the house, she did. Everyone had seen how much Alexander Brown favored her.

No one dared to oppose her. Those who did often faced consequences—harsh enough that people chose silence over defiance. The warning was clear.

Aurora was the living example of that. The one who had once been the rightful lady of the house, but endured humiliation and isolation under the same roof.

No wife should have gone through what she did.

And yet, she had—quietly, without anyone standing up for her.

Even if they despised her, they had no choice but to follow her lead.

Everyone—except Maria.

Maria, the quiet housekeeper who had served the family for years, watched from the corner with an unreadable expression.

She moved efficiently but kept her distance from Veronica, unlike the rest of the frightened staff who bent to her will.

Just then, footsteps echoed from the grand staircase. Alexander was coming down.

Veronica’s eyes lit up instantly.

He looked sharp, dressed in a dark suit, his tie loosely fastened as if in haste. But beneath that composed exterior, his face was tired.

There were dark shadows under his eyes—a result of a sleepless night.

No matter how hard he tried to shut his eyes, all he saw was her.

Aurora.

Not the woman who had disappeared, but the one who once clung to him with timid love, who smiled even when he ignored her, who used to get nervous just standing near him.

She loved me to death, he thought bitterly, his hands clenching into fists.

He had told Derek to track her down. When even his elite internal team failed, he hired private investigators—more expensive, more ruthless.

I’ll find her. She’s just throwing a tantrum. I know her...

She loves me. She always has.

She just needs a little coaxing, and she’ll come back to me.

The thought settled in Alexander’s mind like a balm, easing the tension that had built up over the past few days.

His clenched jaw relaxed slightly, and the frown on his face softened.

For the first time in days, his breathing evened out.

Veronica, seeing Alexander step into the kitchen, rushed to him with a gentle smile that barely reached her eyes.

"Alex... good morning," she greeted sweetly. "I hope you slept well."

Alexander gave her a brief nod, but no words. He moved to sit at the dining table, eyes distant.

"To thank you for saving me... I prepared breakfast today," Veronica said with practiced affection, placing a bowl in front of him.

"Pumpkin soup and congee. I know you drank last night... and your stomach’s weak. I made it special for you."

Alexander took a sip from the bowl, but the moment the taste hit his tongue, his expression twisted in discomfort.

As the heir to the Brown Group, his etiquette had been drilled into him from birth. Spitting food out was unthinkable. Still, it took everything in him not to.

The soup was off. It didn’t taste like the one he was used to. The congee was worse—bland, mismatched, and unpleasant.

He turned slowly toward Maria, eyes narrowing with quiet intensity.

With just one glance, Maria understood. She had been his nanny since he was a baby—she didn’t need words to know what was going through his mind.

She stepped forward calmly, ready to speak before he even asked.

Maria stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Young master... the food you usually have—pumpkin soup, herbal congee—they were prepared by Mrs. Brown.

She would wake at 3 a.m. to cook them herself... every day.

Alone.

She always made sure it was gentle on your stomach. She never wanted to disturb you... so she retired to her room afterward."

Alexander froze.

The spoon in his hand stilled.

She made it herself? Every day...?

So that’s why my stomach’s been fine all these months... after the marriage.

The realization hit Alexander hard—quiet, but undeniable.

A deep frown settled on his face. A trace of uneasiness crept into his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

He stood abruptly, barely touching the rest of the meal. Veronica blinked, startled.

"Alex—wait," she called, chasing after him. "Didn’t you like the food? I can make something else—"

Alexander stopped in the hallway, not turning around.

"I have a meeting," he said coldly. "I’m running late. Don’t trouble yourself with cooking again."

His voice was sharp, distant. So unlike the gentle tone she had come to expect when he spoke to her.

Then he walked out without another word, the sound of the front door slamming leaving an eerie silence behind.

Veronica stood frozen for a long moment. Her hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from pure, simmering fury.

She knew exactly what had gone wrong.

He wasn’t rejecting her cooking.

He was craving Aurora’s.

That bitch.

Even when she’s not here, she steals everything from me.

A cold glint passed through Veronica’s eyes. Her jaw tightened as she stormed toward the inner hallway and shouted, "John! Bring me the family whip."

The butler hesitated. "Madam, I—"

"Now."

John bowed stiffly and disappeared.

The chefs and maids, who had been quietly discussing the incident, were suddenly summoned before her.

"You!" Veronica’s voice cracked like a whip itself. "You didn’t tell me how to make it properly! You let me embarrass myself!"

"No, Miss—"

A sharp lash landed on the back of the nearest chef. He screamed, falling forward. Another lash followed.

"You want me to look like a fool in front of Alex?" she seethed, whipping again. "You all want me to become a joke in this house!"

The cries of pain echoed through the halls. Blood stained the polished floors. Veronica didn’t stop—not even after twenty lashes.

Not after fifty. The staff begged, pleaded—but she only grew more enraged.

In the corner, Maria stood with trembling hands and clenched teeth, tears filling her eyes. She had seen cruelty in this house before—but never like this.

And now... they all remembered.

Aurora.

She had once served them food with her own hands. Listened to their complaints. Treated them like people.

They had whispered behind her back, scorned her for not being enough for Alexander.

Now, they regretted it.

Every word. Every judgment.

When Veronica finally stopped, her breathing was ragged. Her dress stained. She flung the whip aside and turned upstairs, needing to make a call.

But what she didn’t know... was that someone had recorded everything.

And the footage was already on its way—to Alexander.

Meanwhile, in his office, Alexander sat on the leather chair, flipping through catalogs. Rare artifacts. Auction pieces. Diamonds.

His eyes landed on one page—a delicate, rare-cut diamond necklace. Elegant. Understated. Powerful.

"She’ll love this," he murmured to himself with a faint smile. "She always liked simple things."

I’ll give it to her. Coax her a little. She’ll come back.

His phone buzzed.

"Any news about Mrs. Brown?" he asked sharply.

Derek answered from the other side. "The investigators are still searching, Boss."

Alexander’s smile faded. His gaze turned icy.

"If they don’t find her by today, ship the entire team to the North Pole," he growled.

Derek, startled, blinked. "Understood."

On the other side of the city, Derek sat with furrowed brows, equally puzzled by the ongoing search.

How hard could it be to find someone like Aurora? he thought. It didn’t make sense.

The Brown Group had dispatched some of the best—elite professionals, each with their own specialized skill set.

And yet, days had passed and there was still no trace of her, as if she had vanished into thin air.

It was almost... unnatural.