Morning sunlight filtered through the mansion's long dining hall, spilling gold across the polished floors. The staff moved with their usual practiced rhythm ,setting tables, polishing silver, preparing trays , but the air carried something different today. A faint tension. A hush of expectation.
Margaret stood at the center of the kitchen, her phone pressed to her ear as she listened with stiff shoulders.
"Yes, sir. I'll inform the kitchen immediately," she said, then lowered her voice even more. "And… I'll make sure everything is perfect."
She hung up slowly.
Mia, chopping asparagus at the counter, noticed the shift. "Is everything okay?"
Margaret exhaled. "We have a dinner guest tonight."
Another kitchen assistant laughed. "Dinner guest? Or the dinner guest?"
Margaret rolled her eyes, though with restraint. "Nicole Vance."
The entire kitchen groaned quietly.
Mia paused. She had heard the name several times in whispers , Alex's longtime… companion? Girlfriend? Fiancée? No one seemed to know the exact label. What they did know was that Nicole was demanding, sharp-tongued, and used to command.
Margaret faced Mia fully. "She requested her meal specifically. Pan-seared duck breast with orange glaze, asparagus amandine, and crème brûlée for dessert." A short pause. "She wants the new cook to handle all of it."
Mia raised her brows. "Me?"
"She said , and I quote 'Let the new girl show she's worth her apron.'"
A few staff members exchanged looks. Mia felt her chest flutter, nerves tightening.
"If you're not comfortable" Margaret began.
"No," Mia cut in gently but firmly. "I can handle it. It's fancy, yes, but not unfamiliar. I just… hope she likes it."
Margaret's stern face softened. "She won't like it, dear. She never likes anything."
Then she added, "But we'll make sure she respects the kitchen."
A ripple of confidence warmed Mia's chest. She tied her apron tighter. "Let's get started."
By early evening, the mansion was humming with polished tension. The staff lined up in the foyer, a tradition Nicole herself had introduced ,"It shows respect," she had said years ago, "and it sets the tone."
Tonight was no different.
The glass doors opened, and Nicole Vance stepped in with her signature glide. Tall, impossibly elegant, dressed in an ivory dress that fit as if stitched onto her body. Her hair lay in perfect waves, her perfume drifting like an expensive whisper.
"Good evening, Miss Vance," the staff chorused.
Nicole smiled , that narrow, dismissive smile that never reached her eyes.
Her gaze swept over the line of workers.
Compliment. Nod. Ignore. Assess. She walked through them like a queen inspecting a village.
Then her eyes landed on Mia.
She paused.
And with her pause, the entire foyer went silent.
Mia bowed slightly, respectful.
Nicole's eyes skimmed her from head to toe.
"Hmm," she murmured, the tone sugar-sweet but dripping with judgement. "You must be the… new addition."
"Yes, ma'am," Mia said carefully.
Nicole tilted her head as if studying a piece of furniture. "You look… young. Very young. I hope you're more skilled than you look. We wouldn't want the evening to fall apart, would we?"
The insult was gentle , almost polite , but sharp enough to sting.
Mia kept her composure. "I'll do my best, ma'am."
Nicole gave a small, mocking smile. "I hope your 'best' is good enough."
Then, turning to Margaret: "Tell Alex I'm here. I want to believe the rooftop's ready."
She didn't wait to be led. She simply walked, heels clicking like a threat across marble.
When she was gone, the foyer exhaled.
Clara touched Mia's arm. "Ignore her. That's her love language."
Mia forced a small smile. "I'll be fine."
But inside, something fluttered tight , embarrassment… and something else she couldn't name.
High Above the Mansion
The rooftop was already set when Nicole arrived. Fairy lights glowed overhead, spilling warm halos across the sleek outdoor table. A faint evening breeze rustled the ivy that climbed the edges of the parapet.
Alex was already there, seated with a tall glass of water, face expressionless.
Nicole approached with a bright smile, leaning down to kiss his cheek.
"You look tired, darling."
"I've had a long day," he replied evenly. "Traffic was a nightmare."
"Hmm." She sat down, crossing her legs. "Then this dinner should help."
She glanced at the platter. "I hope your new chef didn't ruin my duck."
Alex stiffened. "Nicole"
"Kidding," she lied smoothly.
Their dinner began quietly.
Nicole moaned over the flavors , dramatically , as if performing for an invisible audience.
"This is… surprisingly good," she said. "I'm shocked."
Alex simply nodded. "I'm glad you like it."
"Do I ?" she asked dramatically.
But her smile dimmed. "Alex. My parents called again and they won't stop asking."
He kept eating. "About?"
"Us." She placed her fork down. "You know how they feel about delays."
"I've been busy."
"You're always busy." She leaned forward. "When do we make things official? When do we set a date? Everyone is asking. You can't keep dodging this forever."
Alex's jaw flexed. "Nicole, we've talked about this"
"No, you talked about burying it in your schedule."
Her voice dropped, quieter, sharper. "I'm not sixteen anymore, Alex."
He gave a weary sigh. "Nicole, tonight isn't..... can we just talk about something better?"
"something better? Did you just say something better Alex."
She forced a brittle smile. "It's fine. I'll take my leave,since I've got nothing better to talk about. Maybe when you decide to take us seriously ,then we'll talk."
She stood abruptly.
Alex rose partially. "Where are you ?"
"I suddenly lost my appetite."
She didn't wait for an answer. She stormed toward the elevator, her earrings flashing angrily under the lights.
Alex sat back down, rubbing his temple.
He didn't chase her.
Because deep down, he knew chasing her only led in circles.
Mia had just finished wiping down the counters when she heard hurried footsteps approaching the corridor that led from the rooftop elevator.
She stepped out with a tray in hand , just as the elevator doors slid open.
Nicole stormed out, sharp breaths escaping her. She was too angry to watch where she was going, and too furious to care.
She collided with Mia so hard the tray nearly slipped from Mia's hands.
"Oh, I'm so sorry" Mia began.
Nicole's head snapped toward her.
And then it came ,the release of her frustration.
"Of course," Nicole hissed. "Of course it would be you standing in my way."
Mia blinked. "I… I didn't"
"You never do, do you?" Nicole stepped closer, her tone silk and venom. "You cooks are all the same. Oblivious. Clumsy. And always, always showing up where you're least needed."
Mia froze, breath stuck.
Nicole's smile sharpened. "You must be very proud of yourself. Impressing the staff. Making yourself… comfortable here."
"I'm only doing my job, ma'am."
"Don't you dare , talk back at me." Nicole leaned in, whispering, "Stay in your place. Pretty little girls who work in kitchens tend to forget where they belong."
The words cut deeper than any shout.
Nicole straightened her dress, clicked her tongue, and walked out the front door without looking back.
Silence clung to the corridor.
Mia stood rooted to the spot, cheeks hot, heart shrinking painfully.
She wasn't sure why it hurt so much. Maybe the humiliation. Maybe the helplessness.
Or maybe the sudden reminder that she truly didn't belong in this world.
Clara and Mr. Harold stepped out from the corner where they had witnessed everything.
"Are you okay?" Clara asked softly.
Mia swallowed hard. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not," Clara said, slipping an arm around her shoulder.
Mr. Harold's voice was steady, gentle. "Don't let Miss Vance's behavior define your worth. She is… complicated."
"That's a polite word for it," Clara muttered.
Mia gave a small laugh , shaky, but real.
Margaret approached too, stern face laced with concern. "Did she say something to you?"
Mia shook her head quickly. "No, I'm fine. Really."
Margaret studied her, then nodded slowly. "Go to your room. Rest. You've done enough today."
Mia thanked her, and with quiet footsteps, she retreated to her small room in the staff wing.
When the door closed behind her, the tears finally slipped through ,silent, brief, and quickly wiped away.
She lay on her small bed, staring at the ceiling.
"This is just a job," she whispered. "Just a job."
But the ache in her chest told her it was already becoming something more.
Something complicated.