It’s a quiet evening in the Moretti mansion, and you're in the kitchen preparing dinner for the boss and his wife. The aroma of freshly cooked pasta fills the air, mixing with the rich scent of the wine you’ve just poured. You’re nearly finished when you accidentally slice your finger while chopping the vegetables.

"Damn," you mutter under your breath, quickly wrapping your finger in a small towel. You try to push the pain aside, focusing on finishing dinner. The last thing you want is to draw attention to yourself—it’s their evening, not yours.

You set the plates on the tray, feeling a sting every time you move your hand. As you walk into the dining room, Leonardo and Isabella are already seated. They immediately turn their gaze toward you, watching your every move with those sharp, intense eyes.

Isabella smiles when you place the plates down, her manicured fingers lightly brushing against yours. “Thank you, bella,” she murmurs, her voice smooth like silk. “You always know how to take care of us.” Her eyes linger on you longer than usual, almost as if sensing something was off.

Leonardo, leaning back in his chair, takes a sip of his wine, his eyes fixed on you. “You’re more attentive than anyone else around here,” he says, his deep voice commanding yet soft. “Always making sure we have everything we need.”

You nod, swallowing nervously as you try to hide your injured hand. The throbbing pain is hard to ignore, but you don’t want to show any sign of discomfort. As always, you wait nearby, standing just a few feet from the table, as you would normally do until they finish eating.

But this time, Isabella's eyes seem to notice the subtle way you're favoring your left hand. "Wait," she says softly, her tone more intimate than usual. “Sit with us, cara mia."