iressa''s POV

After sleeping for what felt like forever, I finally dragged myself out of bed. My body still ached faintly, butpared to earlier, I felt stronger. No fever. No chills. Just a craving for fresh air and something cold to drink.

I''d been holed up in that room all day, not just because I needed rest, but because it was easier.

Easier to hide. Easier than running into Adrian and his mission to get me back... or worse, Gabriel and the drama that would unfold when he told the truth.

The idea of running into either of them made my stomach twist, so I figured if I moved quietly enough, I could sneak down to the kitchen, grab a ss of juice, and return before anyone noticed.

My throat was dry, parched even. I nced at the empty ss on the nightstand and sighed. There was no escaping it—I needed juice.

Slipping quietly out of bed, I padded across the room, easing the door open like it might squeak loud enough to call them both over.

The hallway was empty. Good. I tiptoed my way toward the living area, hoping I could sneak into the kitchen and back before anyone noticed I''de out of hiding.

I moved quietly past the living room, ducking my head as I reached the kitchen entrance. The smell of something savory hit my nose.

Just juice, ire. That''s it.

But the moment I stepped inside, I stopped in my tracks.

A woman who looked to be in her mid-fifties stood at the stove, stirring something in arge pot.

She turned at the sound of my feet brushing the floor, eyes meeting mine. Her expression, when she noticed me, was one of warm surprise-not the rm I''d expected.

"Oh! You must be iressa," she eximed, pausing mid-stir. "I''ve heard so much about you from Adrian."

I exhaled, relieved. Just her. Not them. "Yes... I am,” I replied cautiously, stepping farther into the kitchen. "And you must be Miss Gretchen? The house manager?"

She chuckled, wiping her hands and moving away from the stove. "That''s me. But don''t bother with the ''Miss.'' Just Gretchen is fine."

"Oh no," I said quickly, a soft grin ying at my lips. "Miss Gretchen feels much more proper. I''ll stick to that, if you don''t mind."

Sheughed, clearly amused. "Well, alright then. I''ll let you win that one."

I moved toward the counter, eyeing the pot curiously. "What are you cooking? It smells really good."

"Something special. It''s been a long time since the whole family sat down to dinner together, so I figured I''d make it count."

"That sounds... really lovely," I responded genuinely.

Then Miss Gretchen eyed me with mild suspicion as she stepped closer to examine me. “Should you be out of bed? How are you feeling, sweetheart? Do you need me to get you anything?"

"I feel so much better, thanks for asking," I gave her a warm smile.

Then I nced over toward the fridge. "Actually, I came here for a ss of juice. My throat''s kind of begging me for it."

Miss Gretchen immediately waved me off. "Sit down. I''ll get it for you."

Before I could protest, she was already at the fridge. "Apple, orange, or cranberry?"

"Cranberry."

She nodded, then pulled out a bottle of red cranberry juice and poured it into a clean ss. She handed it to me with a little smile. "There you go, sweetheart."

I took a long sip, the cold sweetness sliding down my throat like heaven. "Thank you," I murmured, then motioned toward the counter. "What exactly are you preparing? It smells incredible."

"Beef stew, with roasted garlic potatoes and some buttered veggies on the side," she said, flipping something in a skillet. "Nothing fancy, just something hearty."

I leaned against the counter, watching her move around the kitchen with practiced ease. "Is there anything I can help you with?" I asked.

She turned to me with a halfugh. "Help? No, no, no. The bosses will have my head if they find out I let you lift a finger. You''re supposed to be resting."

"But I feel fine," I protested, trying to keep my tone light. "I''ve been lying in bed all day. I need to move a little."

"That''s what you say," she replied, pointing a spoon at me, "but I''ve been working in this house long enough to know what recovery looks like. And yours isn''t finished yet."

She narrowed her eyes at me, though it was more yful than stern. "Resting means resting, dear. Not sautéing onions and lifting pots."

"I can peel a carrot," I offered. "I promise not to faint on the floor."

She scoffed, but a smile tugged at her lips. "You''re persistent, aren''t you?"

I grinned, setting the juice ss down. "Only a little."

"Well, if you must do something, you can sit right there-" she motioned to a stool by the counter "-and keep mepany. But if I so much as see you with a knife in your hand, I''m calling Adrian, because he''s the one who gave me specific instructions to take care of you."

"Deal."

We shared a smile, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the air felt light,

and I needed this free conversation to keep myself from going crazy...

"So, how long have you worked for the family?"

She chuckled. "Oh, since Adrian was in diapers."

I burst outughing at the image. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," she said, her eyes twinkling with nostalgia. "He was the sweetest little rascal. Always into everything, always pulling pranks on his parents. Once, he put green food

Pet

coloring in the milk. His poor mother nearly had a heart attack."

Iughed again, picturing it so clearly. "Sounds exactly like Adrian. He must have

been such a handful."

"He was," she said warmly. "But it didn''t matter because the whole family was close then. Always dinners together, music in the house, celebrations for the tiniest reasons. It was beautiful before everything changed."

Her voice trailed off. She stopped stirring, her eyes far away.

"When the divorce happened... It was like someone turned the lights off in this house. Everything just... broke."

Then she caught herself and shook her head. "I''ve said too much."

"I understand, Miss Gretchen," I said softly.

She looked over at me, gave a tiny nod, and I offered her a small smile. I didn''t ask further. I knew the pain of watching a family crumble. I lived it in my own way.

To ease the moment, I nced around and said, "Well, whatever happened, you''ve done an incredible job keeping this ce so beautiful. It''s spotless. Feels like a warm, lived-in dream."

That got her smiling again. "Thank you. I do what I can. Mr. Storm...well, he''s not exactly a fan of change. So even when he wasn''t around for years kept it all the same. Like maybe one day he''d walk through that door again."

"And he did," I said quietly.

She nodded, her expression softening. "He did."

She paused, then added with a fond sigh, "Gabriel''s the best boss I''ve ever had. Smart. Fair. A little grumpy sometimes, but never cruel. Always respectful. There were days I wished Adrian would take more after him..."

I raised a brow. "Oh?"

Sheughed. "Don''t get me wrong-Adrian''s a good man. He''s just... still figuring himself out. He''s got time."

I opened my mouth to respond-but then something shifted in Gretchen''s expression.

Her posture stiffened as her gaze shifted to something or someone-behind me.

"Oh."

I turned slowly, my breath catching.

Gabriel stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression hard-tense and

without a hint of warmth.

How long had he been there?

My stomach dropped.