Trading My Ex for His Uncle (Nyla)
Chapter 423

Seeing Nyla's sadness, Damon wanted to pull her into his arms. However, as soon as he touched her, she stepped back.

A flicker of disappointment crossed his eyes as he noticed how she deliberately kept her distance.

"You should head home for now. I've asked Spencer to investigate, and I'll let you know when we have results," he said. "Alright," Nyla answered.

She walked out of Prospectus Technology and saw Gabriel standing by her car, clearly waiting for her. She quickly approached, her attitude as cold as ever. "Do you need something?" "Nyla, have you figured it out?" Gabriel asked.

Nyla looked up at him. "Figured out what?"

"Nothing," he replied.

His gentle facade only made Nyla feel more disgusted. He clearly despised her, yet continued to put on this act. She almost pitied him for how hard he tried.

"If there's nothing else, I'm leaving," she said.

Gabriel nodded. "Alright."

As Nyla's car disappeared from sight, Gabriel finally looked away, got into his vehicle, and headed toward the police station.

...

Later that evening, Nyla was making dinner when the doorbell rang unexpectedly. She opened the door to replace Damon standing there.

"Mr. Sumner, has Spencer found anything?" she asked.

The moment the door opened, Damon caught the scent of her cooking.

"Are you making dinner?" he asked.

Nyla pressed her lips together. "Yes."

Seeing that she wasn't going to invite him, Damon raised an eyebrow and smiled. "I haven't eaten yet. How about we talk over dinner?"

Since he made it so clear, it would be rude for her to turn him down now.

"Sure," she agreed, stepping aside to let him in. She handed him a new pair of slippers and turned toward the kitchen.

After changing into the slippers, Damon followed her, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Nyla's apartment was small, a two-bedroom rental. The kitchen was on the left as one entered, with the living room and dining area. straight ahead. The bathroom was at the end of the hallway, flanked by the bedrooms.

The living room wasn't large, but it was cozy.

A small vase with a few yellow roses sat on the coffee table, their buds just beginning to bloom. Drops of water elung to the petals, making them appear even more delicate.

A beige blanket was draped over the sofa, with a couple of soft, cloud-shaped pillows on top, giving the space a warm, inviting feel.

Damon took it all in before turning toward the kitchen.

Nyla was slicing potatoes while a pot of chicken simmered on the stove, steam rising in gentle wisps.

He took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and walked into the kitchen. "Let me help."

Nyla was surprised but shook her head. "No need. I can handle it."

Despite her protest, Damon washed his hands and, without waiting for her to object, took the knife from her and began slicing the potatoes himself.

As she watched him work with more skill and precision than she had, Nyla couldn't help but be impressed.

"I didn't expect you to be so good with a knife," she remarked.

Damon chuckled. "Back when I was starting my business, I didn't have much money to order takeout, so I had to cook for myself."

"Didn't your family help?" she asked, surprised.

Given that he was the most

cherished son of the Sumner family,

Nyla had assumed Richard and

Marie would have supported him

She hadn't expected him to struggle with something as basic as food.

"They didn't," Damon replied. "I didn't want to rely on them. Otherwise, even if my business succeeded, I'd still be under their control."

"Oh." Nyla understood. Depending on family support often meant losing control over your own life-just like Clark.