ARIA'S POV.
The kitchen was already buzzing with activity when Hannah and I walked in. The scent of eggs sizzling in butter mixed with freshly baked bread filled the air. Several maids moved around quickly, their hands busy—some stirring pots, some pulling trays from the oven, others arranging cutlery. The air was thick with steam and chatter, too loud for this early in the morning.
Hannah immediately slipped into her role, giving out instructions. “Careful with those plates, Marina. We don’t need another one chipped. And Becca, keep an eye on that pancake, it’s starting to smell funny.”
Meanwhile, I stood at the counter, a chopping board in front of me. My task was simple—fruits. I sliced strawberries, apples, and bananas, arranging them neatly into bowls. It wasn’t difficult, but the
