The Rogue King's Surrogate novel Chapter 109

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By the time Emery sat in the car, James had already made sure she was safe. He spoke briefly with Sebastian outside, gave her one last look of reassurance, and only left once he was certain she was secured.

Inside the hospital, Samuel and Talia’s shouting match had ended with security personnel stepping in. Both were kicked out and escorted off the premises, their dramatic fight leaving behind whispers and a dozen shaken witnesses.

Sebastian slid into the front passenger seat. “We’ve already suppressed any videos or news about the matter. Most of the clips that surfaced online were taken down, and several of Talia’s fan accounts were reported and banned from the platforms. You shouldn’t worry about backlash. However…”

Emery leaned back against the seat, exhausted. “However?”

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder at her. “There are still people trying to drag your name through it. Especially because you’re from the Bennet family. Some are saying this is a scandal worth capitalizing on. Would you want to get ahead of it, maybe use this as an opportunity to reveal your marriage with Logan?”

Emery stayed silent for a moment. The confrontation with Talia still clung to her nerves. She hadn’t expected the actress to actually accuse her of being a mistress in public, much less in such a dramatic meltdown. Emery could only think the woman needed time in a psych ward, not a red carpet.

Finally, Emery straightened. “Release the footage from the hospital. There has to be CCTV of what happened. And make it clear that Talia and Samuel were never married and I was never in a relationship with Samuel. That should be enough.”

Sebastian nodded once. “Is that it?”

“Do I have to explain to strangers that I am not a mistress?” Emery asked. To her, there is simply no reason why she would try so hard to make those strangers understand that she’s not some whore. It’s simply ridiculous, considering she doesn’t work in the show business industry.

She wanted peace, and making this issue bigger is only going to complicate things.

“No.” Sebastian said.

“I thought so,” Emery nodded. She leaned back and turned her head to the side as she closed her eyes. Not long after, they arrived at the Japanese style Cabin where Logan was staying. The moment she came in, she immediately spotted Logan. Alone.

She paused, unable to believe what she was seeing.

Logan was at the stove in a black T–shirt, gray sweatpants and a pink apron covered in cartoon cats. He had a ladle in one hand and was tasting from it like this was a normal thing he did every night.

Emery stopped at the doorway. “You–what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. He tipped his chin at her, then crooked two fingers as if telling her to come here. When she didn’t move fast enough, he walked over, slid a warm hand to her elbow, and guided her to the kitchen.

Up close, the apron was even more distracting. The cats had tiny bow ties and speech bubbles that said “meow.” With his broad shoulders, cut arms, and that cold executive aura, the apron looked completely out of place. The apron made him look like a deadly head chef from a kid’s show.

For a moment, Emery was too focused on the cats, she didn’t know what to react.

“Are those… cats?” she asked. “Cats? Or… aliens?”

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“It was in the drawer,” he said, dead serious. “Don’t judge my uniform. I was in a hurry.”

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Steam rolled off the pot. The kitchen smelled of chicken, ginger, and something clean and warm that was enough to wake her stomach up.

He lifted the ladle again. “Open.”

She blinked. Then blinked again. He held the ladle closer. Then finally, she parted her lips on instinct. As soon as the broth hit her tongue, she tasted a richness without oil, balanced by the sharpness of ginger and the gentle sweetness of carrot.

He watched her face. “Good?”

She nodded before the swallow even finished. “What is it?”

“Simple chicken soup,” he said. “I simmered bone–in thighs for the stock, skimmed the fat, then pulled the meat. Ginger and garlic to make it easier on your stomach. Onion for body. Carrot for a little sweetness. A splash of soy. No chili, no heavy herbs. Salted at the end. There’s rice if you want it heavier. Or noodles. Your call.”

“I-“Why does this statement sound… familiar?

Seeing her reluctance, he immediately added.”The doctor told me that you might be a bit underweight. You need to eat more.”

“He didn’t say that,” Emery said. As far as she’s concerned, her weight is average for a pregnant woman. The doctor even said, all of her stats were normal.

She gave him a weird look as he set a bowl in front of her without asking and ladled the soup in. He added a few slices of chicken on top, then a handful of chopped spring onions.

“You cooked,” she said, still eyeing the apron like it might sprout legs.

“I assembled a resource,” he said. “Because your body needs it.”

“Really?” she asked. Part of her suspected he was doing this because he had heard about the scene with Samuel earlier. Sebastian had been there when it happened, so it was likely he had overheard every word Samuel said.

At the same time, another part of her refused to believe that was the reason. Why would he go to such lengths just because of Samuel? It wasn’t as if he was jealous. Maybe he was only acting out of concern. Well, it should be normal for him to be concerned, right? After all, he is the father of the child inside her.

He nodded in response. “Now, go on…”

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This time, Emery complied. She lifted the spoon and tasted again. The warmth spread through her chest, easing the heavy knot that had been there since the hospital. It was plain chicken soup, nothing fancy, but every sip settled her nerves. The ginger cleared her throat, the broth coated her stomach, and she realized just how hungry she actually was.

“This is… good,” she muttered, half to herself as she took another spoonful. The heat in her palms from holding the bowl made her relax, the kind of comfort she didn’t expect to come from him.

“A bit of rice would be enough,” she finally said after a few bites.

Logan stood, scooped half a bowl of rice, and set it in front of her without a word. She stirred it into her soup, the steam carrying more of that savory smell she couldn’t resist. After a few mouthfuls, she looked up at him.

“Aren’t you eating with me?” she asked. “Or did you already eat before I got here?”

He was sitting across from her, elbow on the table, chin resting on his palm. He hadn’t touched anything, not even a glass of

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water. He was just watching her, his expression unreadable.

“I’m full,” he said.

Her brow furrowed. “Full? Did you eat before me?”

He shook his head once, eyes still fixed on her. “No. The view made me full.”

The

spoon froze halfway to her mouth. For a moment, Emery didn’t know what to say.

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