Claire Sinclair said nonchalantly, "He used my sister’s will to trick me into marrying him. We agreed to get a divorce immediately after, just to fulfill the terms of the will. But he lied to me and refused to divorce after we got married.

"At the time, I had just been cheated on by a scumbag and was in a terrible mood. He was so gentle with me, so I thought it would be nice to have someone to lean on. I was even naive enough to think that if I just worked hard, I could be his equal. But then his mother gave me a harsh reality check. Turns out I was completely overestimating myself."

’So there was such a complicated story between her and Young Master Quincy. Interesting, very interesting!’

Henry Hartwell had heard something incredible, and he felt a little pleased. But this was a quarrel between a young couple; he couldn’t just get lost in his own amusement.

’I’m here to comfort the poor girl...’

"I don’t think you were overestimating yourself, Claire Sinclair. You’re very outstanding—"

"It’s meaningless." Claire Sinclair cut him off. "Teacher Hartwell, I just figured something out. It turns out I was just lonely for too long and accidentally started depending on a man again. I don’t actually have those kinds of feelings for him."

"What kinds of feelings?"

"You know, feelings of ’like.’ He once asked me how I felt about him, and I didn’t answer back then. Now, I can say for sure that I don’t like him. He’s not my type."

’If Young Master Quincy heard her say that, he’d probably destroy the world...’

Henry Hartwell glanced back at the door. After confirming no one was outside, he finally breathed a sigh of relief and asked, "Then what type of man do you like?"

Claire Sinclair teased, "I like men like Teacher Hartwell, who can lose weight the moment they decide to, who are filled with a sense of justice, and who are serious and responsible at work—"

Henry Hartwell looked horrified. He immediately covered her mouth. "Claire Sinclair, if anyone hears you say that, I’ll die a horrible death. Don’t ever say it again."

Claire Sinclair blinked, nodding to show she understood.

Henry Hartwell didn’t let go right away. First, he had to shift the potential trouble elsewhere. "If anyone asks you this question again, just say you like Aiden Howkins, or Ethan Kingsley, anyone is fine. Just don’t ever say you like me, understand?"

Claire Sinclair nodded vigorously.

Only then did Henry Hartwell release her.

Claire Sinclair immediately explained, "Teacher Hartwell, I was just joking with you."

"That kind of joke isn’t funny."

"Sorry..."

A smile suddenly touched Henry Hartwell’s lips. "You seem to be in a pretty good mood. Want to go out and get something to eat?"

"Okay! I want to eat thirteen-spice crayfish!"

"Are you allowed to eat that?"

Claire Sinclair immediately pulled out her IV needle. "Teacher Hartwell, if I don’t get to eat crayfish today, I will absolutely die on this bed. Believe it or not!"

Henry Hartwell: "..."

’Of course, he believed her. He knew the near-manic state a foodie falls into when they can’t eat what they’re craving. After all, he was a foodie himself...’

And so, the two foodies left the hospital and relocated to a nearby crayfish and barbecue restaurant.

Claire Sinclair ordered four pounds of thirteen-spice crayfish all at once, and also threw in an order of stir-fried rice noodles.

Ever since marrying that man, she hadn’t once been able to enjoy the taste of thirteen-spice crayfish paired with stir-fried rice noodles. Now that they were on the outs, she was determined to make up for lost time.

Henry Hartwell seemed to be on a diet recently, but he didn’t try to stop her when he heard how much food she had ordered.

When the server brought their food, they both put on disposable gloves and started to peel the crayfish.

Claire Sinclair inhaled the aroma of the thirteen spices and said with feeling, "It’s true. Only crayfish can fill the lonely, empty coldness in my heart. This is so delicious."