The Next Morning
Evelina sat by the window, staring at the pale morning light filtering through the curtains. Her mind was consumed with a single thought: How could she grow closer to her husband? Not in a romantic sense, of course, but she needed to feel comfortable around him. It was essential. She had plans, plans that required his help in regaining her inheritance from her father, and for that, she needed his trust—his genuine cooperation. The more relaxed they could be around each other, the easier it would be for her to request his aid without feeling like an imposition.
Her maid entered with a glass cup of cold juice, placing it on the table beside her.
"Has Mr. Leone left for work?" Evelina asked before she could stop herself. The question slipped out, casual and almost automatic.
"No, ma'am. He's been advised to take a one week break." The maid replied as Evelina picked up the glass cup and was about to take a sip.
Evelina paused. 'That reminds me… how did he get hurt in the first place?' she thought, her gaze drifting to the memory of the bandage she had seen wrapped around his head.
She shook the thought away quickly, not wanting to dwell on it. It doesn't concern me, she reminded herself.
"Since he's home, I might as well go see him," she said aloud, then hesitated. "And since he's unwell, I should make some healthy food for him."
The maid's eyes widened, her voice faltering slightly. "I don't think that will be necessary, Mrs. Evelina."
Evelina took a small sip from her juice and smiled, her tone soft yet firm. "Evelina," she corrected, "Call me Evelina. And what's your name? I don't believe I asked when we first met."
The maid froze, caught off guard by the sudden question. She blinked, cheeks flushing slightly. Why does she want to know my name? she wondered. It wasn't like other wealthywomen who barely acknowledged their servants.
"My name is Clarissa, ma'am," the maid replied, still a little flustered.
"Evelina," she corrected again, "Clarissa, why wouldn't making healthy food for my husband be necessary?" Evelina's smile remained, but there was an icy undertone to it, one that suggested her kindness was not to be mistaken for weakness.
"Oh, don't get me wrong, ma'am," Clarissa quickly added.
Evelina sighed, her patience thinning, and corrected her gently. "Evelina."
"Ah, I apologize, Evelina. It's just that Young Master Leone already has a personal chef who cooks for him specially," Clarissa explained, a bit nervous.
Evelina raised an eyebrow, her expression barely shifting as she placed the glass of juice back on the table. "So, you're saying… he has a separate chef?"
Clarissa nodded.
Evelina's eyes twitched, her jaw clenching as frustration began to bubble beneath the surface. A separate wing, a separate chef?! What is with this guy? she thought, the pieces of this strange family dynamic falling into place.
"So, he doesn't eat with his parents?" Evelina asked, her voice a little colder now.
"Well... since they all have separate wings and such busy lives, they barely come together for a family dinner anymore. Just once or twice a year, usually for special occasions," Clarissa answered, her tone tinged with hesitation.
Evelina's eyes widened, her mind racing. This family is more fractured than I thought… but in public, they always seem so happy.
Evelina's curiosity got the better of her. "I'm sorry to ask, but does Mr. Hargrave and Mrs. Hargrave have separate wings as well?"
"Not at all, Evelina," Clarissa replied quickly. "Mr. Hargrave loves Mrs. Hargrave a lot, so he can't be away from her for too long."
Evelina's lips curled into a faint, almost wistful smile. That's touching. I wish my so-called husband was at least kind and considerate to my feelings.
Her thoughts were cut short when she abruptly stood up, her gaze fixed with a renewed purpose. "Has his chef cooked yet?"
"No, it's only 6:30 a.m. right now. He usually starts around 7:00 a.m., and Young Master wakes up by 7:30 a.m. to get ready. His breakfast is served shortly after," Clarissa explained.
Evelina's expression hardened with determination. "Take me to his personal chef. I'd like to discuss something with him."
Clarissa hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure of the request. "Are you sure, Evelina? The chef is quite particular about who he allows in the kitchen, especially before the young master's breakfast is prepared."
Evelina's expression remained firm. "I'm sure. Take me to him."
Clarissa blinked in surprise but nodded, albeit reluctantly. She led the way through the house, the halls quiet in the early morning light, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly.
Evelina's mind raced as she followed, her thoughts focused on the task at hand. I have just one week. If I want to grow closer to Mr Leone, it starts with understanding his routines, his preferences. And what better way than to speak to the person who controls what goes into his mouth every day?
After navigating a series of corridors, they reached a door that looked far more luxurious than the others—polished wood with a gold handle.
Clarissa knocked gently before pushing it open. Inside, the air was rich with the scent of herbs and sizzling food. The kitchen was a large, open space, gleaming with stainless steel appliances and countertops stacked with fresh ingredients.
Behind the central kitchen island stood a tall, broad-shouldered man, his white chef's jacket crisp and immaculate. He was meticulously chopping vegetables, his movements swift and precise.
"Chef Lennox," Clarissa called out softly, catching the attention of the man.
He turned with a neutral expression, his eyes scanning Evelina before focusing on Clarissa. "Yes, what is it? And who is she?"
Clarissa stepped aside to allow Evelina to enter. "This is Mrs. Evelina, the young master's wife. She would like to speak with you."
Chef Lennox's gaze flickered briefly to Evelina, but he said nothing as he wiped his hands on a cloth and set down his knife. His demeanor remained impassive, though there was a faint glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. ' The young master's wife? What does she want from me?' He thought.
Evelina stood tall, her posture commanding but not hostile, as she met the chef's gaze. "I'd like to discuss my husband's meals," she began, her voice even and calm. "Specifically, his breakfast routine."
Chef Lennox didn't immediately respond, instead eyeing her with silent scrutiny. He had seen many women in this house, but none dared or even bothered to approach him, talkless of being this direct. "And what is it you wish to discuss, Mrs. Evelina?" he asked, his tone measured but with an underlying note of curiosity.
Evelina stepped closer to the counter, her eyes scanning the array of fresh ingredients laid out before the chef. "I've been thinking about his diet," she said slowly, "and I believe I could suggest a few improvements to help his health. I've noticed a few things that could use some attention."
Chef Lennox raised an eyebrow. "Young Master has been under my care for quite some time, and I am aware of his needs. His meals are tailored to keep him in peak condition," he replied, his voice unwavering. But there was a hint of uncertainty in his gaze—he was protective of his work, especially when it came to young master. ' I don't trust this lady.'
Evelina didn't back down. "I understand, Chef Lennox, but perhaps a fresh perspective would be beneficial. I want to help ensure that my husband's health is at its best, especially with the busy days ahead of him." She paused, watching his reaction closely. "If you're willing, of course."