Three Meals a Day, Just PotatoesChapter 1
On the day I graduated from college, I had just received my diploma when Robert Lane, my grandfather, rushed to arrange a family-arranged date for me.
He said the guy’s parents had been business partners with our corporation for years, that he was well-mannered and came from a wealthy family, and that I’d never be mistreated if I married him.
For the sake of Grandpa’s health, I reluctantly agreed to start as friends with the man and even agreed to travel together to see the grasslands near Portland.
I never expected this date to turn out to be a nightmare — he literally forced me to eat his mother’s homemade potato stew three times a day!
When I refused, he righteously lectured me:
"Aren’t you just the pampered daughter of a small family-owned factory? Stop acting like a spoiled princess!"
I was stunned — he actually had no idea who I really was. But for Grandpa’s sake and the long-standing business ties between our families, I chose to stay silent.
As soon as the trip ended, I told him we were not a match.
To my shock, Jason King later showed up carrying a bag of spoiled potato stew, threatening me:
"If my mom finds out these potatoes were wasted, she’ll be heartbroken! You wouldn’t want to upset your future mother-in-law, right? My mom could shut down your little factory with the snap of a finger!"
I thought of that middle-aged woman who showed up at my house every month in a tight red dress to deliver gifts and couldn’t help but sneer.
"Anyone can eat this stew if they want, but as for your mom — she’s nothing in front of me."
Then I called my secretary:
"Ms. Lewis, notify everyone — terminate all cooperation with King Foods immediately."
The day after agreeing to the trip, we appeared at Seattle–Tacoma International Airport.
Standing at security, I watched Jason open his overstuffed suitcase and froze.
"Are these… all potatoes?"
I stared at the suitcase full of potatoes, both raw and cooked, some still with dirt clinging to them.
"Why on earth did you bring so many potatoes?"
Jason gave me a dismissive glance.
"My mom prepared them for me. When you travel, you have to bring your own food — it’s so expensive to buy outside."
"Potatoes are practical — they fill you up and don’t take up much space!"
I gasped, curling my toes in my shoes.
"Isn’t this heavy?"
He chuckled, flexing his biceps proudly.