Adriana's POV
After Diego stormed upstairs, I slumped back onto the sofa, replaying the drama that had unfolded just moments ago. I couldn't believe how adept he was at administering first aid. He focused intently on cleaning my wound while I sat there, staring at him like a fool.
It was the first time he had ever shown such gentleness toward me, and I found myself wishing I could savour that moment again.
Just then, the chef approached and gently touched my hand. I looked at her concern was etched on her face.
“Dear, are you alright?” She asked, worry evident in her voice. “I'm sorry you had to go through that,” she apologised.
I sat up, shaking my head. “Don't apologise, ma. It had nothing to do with you,” I replied, feeling guilty that she was taking the blame for something beyond
