Downstairs in the kitchen of Leon's private mansion, the morning had started earlier than usual.
The large, stainless-steel counters gleamed under the lights, and the scent of buttered toast, roasted coffee, and freshly baked bread filled the air. The low hum of the refrigerator mixed with the occasional clink of cutlery.
Most of the staff at Leon's mansion were men—trained, discreet, and professional. It had been a quiet rule, unspoken yet understood: Mr. Leon Atlandas preferred not to have women working in close quarters around him. Only two women remained on staff—Gilda, the head cook, and Nanny Elsie, the elderly caretaker who had helped raise Leon. Both had been with him long before his mansion was built and were exceptions to his rule.
At the long prep table, two junior staff whispered while chopping vegetables, careful not to attract Gilda's attention.
"Did you see that girl last night?" one murmured. "The boss carried her inside himself."
"He never even lets people walk beside him, let alone touch him," the other said, voice low with disbelief. "That's the second time she's been here."
Gilda, stirring a pot of porridge nearby, snapped, "If you two have that much energy to gossip, go clean the silverware."
They obeyed instantly. But as they moved, one of them dared to whisper, "Do you think she's the reason the mood in this place feels... different today?"
Just then, Jon, Leon's trusted butler, entered the kitchen. He was always the sharpest-dressed man in the mansion, but today, his tie was slightly crooked, and his brow furrowed with tension.
"What's all this chatter?" he said, glancing around the room. "You think Mr. Leon tolerates servants who can't tell the difference between kitchen duties and a soap opera?"
The room fell silent. Jon sighed.
"Breakfast is to be served in ten minutes. Move!"
At that moment, soft footsteps came from the staircase. All eyes turned as Cielo descended slowly, wrapped in Leon's crisp white shirt and dark trousers, which hung off her like a blanket.
Even the staff who were used to discretion couldn't help but sneak glances. She looked lost, fragile—but somehow, regal.
Jon approached her with a soft, respectful tone. "Good morning, Miss. Breakfast has been prepared. Would you like to eat before leaving?"
She nodded, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Yes, please. Just a little."
Jon guided her gently to the private breakfast nook near the garden-view window. A male server placed a simple meal before her—scrambled eggs, warm toast, and a mug of mint tea.
She barely ate. Her stomach twisted with nerves. Leon's clothes were too big, his scent still clung to them, and she had no idea how to explain any of this to Hazel.
The moment she finished, Jon returned.
"Mr. Leon has instructed that Jim take you home. The car is ready."
Cielo nodded and stood up.
As she made her way to the front door, she could feel the silent glances behind her. Every footstep echoed louder than it should have.
The sleek black car stood waiting outside the mansion. Jim, always formal and unreadable, opened the rear passenger door.
"Miss Lara" he greeted with a polite nod.
She climbed in and settled into the leather seat.
As the car pulled away from the quiet property, she stared out the window at the modern gates closing behind them.
What just happened in the last twenty-four hours? she wondered. First, I lost my job. Then... almost everything. And now this?
She turned her face away from Jim, biting her lip.
What is Leon really thinking? Why would a whole Ceo help me up to twice
For now, the questions would remain unanswered.
But she was sure of one thing.
Hazel was going to finish her.