"I told you… I told you to trust me, but you didn't," Rita whispered to Ben, her voice low and insidious, each word crafted to pierce through his resolve.
"What if she's seeing someone? Maybe she went on a trip with her lover. Who knows?" she added, her tone laced with venom and fear, subtly trying to unbalance him.
Ben felt a flicker of panic grip his chest. The thought of losing Ella made his heart slip, cold fear crawling sharply through his veins.
He said nothing. Instead, he walked to his usual secluded spot, a quiet corner of the house where no one disturbed him. That one place he used to think clearly. His mind raced, every thought twisting, colliding, refusing to settle.
"What can I do to let Ella know I'm doing this for her? She means a lot to me," he murmured under his breath, pacing slowly, each step heavy with intensity and frustration.
Rita's words dragged at him. The idea that Ella might be seeing someone else gnawed at his chest, leaving a deep pit of unease in his stomach.
No… I can't lose her. She is mine, he repeated internally, the truth pressing down on him like a dark storm cloud refusing to move.
"What can I do to make her happy without making it obvious?" he asked himself, struggling to find the balance between care and secrecy.
Yes… I'll make her favorite, he decided suddenly. He picked up his phone and called one of the cooks, instructing them to get everything ready so he could prepare Ella's favorite dish.
That evening, Ben returned home earlier than expected. The house was quiet, the air thick with lingering tension. He walked straight into the kitchen with purposeful movements, preparing the meal alongside his cook. Every motion was deliberate, steady, a silent, unspoken declaration of devotion.
He poured his energy, his time, and his heart into making Ella happy.
When Ella opened the dish and saw the food inside, her eyes lit up with surprise, a soft glow breaking through days of exhaustion and frustration.
"Oh wow… who made this? My favorite?" she asked, her voice warm, curiosity and delight threading through her tone.
"This is your favorite… I'm not surprised," Rita interjected, attempting a casual tone, though the sharp edge of jealousy in her voice bled through the words.
Ben watched silently from a distance, his expression calm, satisfaction hidden behind the controlled mask he wore. Seeing Ella enjoy the meal, the small smile tugging at her lips filled him with a rare, quiet joy… a warmth he allowed himself only in secret.
Later that day, one of the staff discreetly pulled Rita aside, lowering her voice as she spoke.
"Ma'am, I think… boss is still into her," she whispered, hesitant, glancing nervously toward Ben's study.
Rita's eyes narrowed. "Why do you say so?"
The maid leaned closer, whispering sharply, "He prepared lunch himself. And from the way he served it, it was intentional, her favorite dish, made just to please her."
Jealousy flared like fire in Rita's chest. She clenched her fists, biting the inside of her cheek as the emotion churned violently within her.
She waved the maid away, irritation buzzing beneath her skin. Her fingers tapped impatiently on the table, each tap a silent drumbeat of anger and insecurity.
"I know he just did that to calm her down so she goes back to managing his business," Rita muttered quietly, completely unaware of the true depth behind Ben's intentions.
The air in the house felt taut, electric, invisible threads of care, jealousy, fear, and unspoken emotion weaving tightly between them all. Ben silently hoped Ella understood his gesture… Ella remained focused on her purpose… and Rita simmered with fear, terrified of losing her grip on him.