The morning sun had already spread its golden light across the vast mansion grounds when Emilia stood by the stove in the large yet lonely kitchen, gently stirring a pot of warm, savory soup. It was exactly ten o'clock.
"Emilia, Daniel is waiting outside," Madonna's voice broke the quiet with gentle grace. Her tone was soft, respectful, and lined with tired affection.
"Aunt, it's almost ready," Emilia replied, her voice calm but her heart weighed down. She turned off the stove with a final twist and exhaled slowly. "I'm just going to pour it into the storage box."
For the past three weeks, Emilia had been working tirelessly, taking on the entire responsibility of preparing meals for her master—who was still bedridden and healing. Daniel had been coming three times a day to collect the f
