Chapter 111
Katya POV
I stepped into the elevator and the tal doors slid shut with a soft hiss.
The air inside was cool, faintly slling of cleaning agents and sothing tallic. I pressed the button for the third floor and leaned back against the wall, letting my shoulders drop for the first ti this morning.
The ride was quiet — the kind of quiet where my thoughts suddenly got loud. Thoughts I didn’t have ti for.
Thoughts I didn’t want. Dark, nasty things I never imagined I’d think. Thoughts that made worry I was turning into exactly what my dad wanted. I really hope he’s six feet down — if he was ever buried.
The elevator chid, and the doors opened to the hallway leading to the kitchen. Compared to the upstairs floors, this area lived and breathed warmth, despite the flickers of unexpected hatred I sensed from a few of the maids.
My stomach growled as I stepped out and headed down the wide hallway toward the kitchen.
The tension I’d been carrying since entering Roo’s office slowly leaked out of with each step. My routine with Miss Stella had been put to a stop, but that didn’t an I didn’t still see her every day.
She’d been a great support system lately, and the weird vibe I’d felt from her that particular day had completely disappeared.
As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, the warm rush of heat and the sll of freshly baked bread wrapped around .
Pots clattered sowhere in the back, and a few maids glanced up before quickly going back to their tasks.
At the main counter, Miss Stella stood kneading dough with her usual calm concentration.
Her eyes lifted the mont she sensed , her expression softening the way it always did when she saw . "Again?" she asked gently, wiping her hands with a clean towel.
Her voice was warm, quiet... but it still carried a kind of knowing that made feel seen. I let out a huff.
"Didn’t I tell you he would?" I replied, shrugging like it didn’t bother even though my legs still felt heavy from standing in that office.
I had placed a bet with Miss Stella this morning after getting the first breakfast for that brat. Miss Stella’s lips pressed into a thin line, not in anger — just that quiet disapproval she always had whenever Mr Salvatore was involved.
She stepped closer, her hand brushing my arm in a comforting, motherly gesture. "You shouldn’t have to endure that," she murmured, her eyes scanning my face as if checking for signs of stress.
"He’s... recovering, yes. But that doesn’t excuse everything."I looked away, fighting the instinct to shrug again.
"You know you can always tell Nonna what he’s been doing, or you can just tell her you don’t want to be assigned to her grandson. She loves you. She will listen," she said softly.
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t, really.
How would I go up to Nonna and tell her that her entitled prick of a grandson is soooo bratty and I can’t work with him?
And going to her isn’t even the worst part — it’s what the maids who already hate would think.
They already have the mindset that I’m treated differently, so why give them more reason? And that’s just by the way.
I still have a mission to complete. Mission: survive him long enough to figure out how to kill the lunatic and make the world a better place.
Miss Stella watched as I moved toward the counter where the big silver coffee pot sat steaming.
Her eyes followed the whole way, calm but quietly worried.
I reached for a mug, the warm ceramic grounding for a second. "He wants it hot," I muttered, rolling my eyes as I filled it halfway. "As if I’d bring him iced coffee on purpose."
Miss Stella huffed a soft laugh under her breath. "Even if you did, he wouldn’t notice the difference. He only complains to hear himself complain."
"Exactly." I snorted.
She reached over and placed a small plate of buttered bread beside . "Eat sothing before you go back up...You look drained," she said and I smiled.
See, these is why she’s my motherly figure.
"Thank you" I muttered. "I plan to." Her eyebrow lifted as she shook her head impressed. "Good."
I sat down at the stool near the counter as I began eating the bread while miss Stella went back to her task.
The kitchen got to its comfortable silence and occasionally shackles. My eyes went back to the coffee I had made and I picked it up. I will just take this and make him a new one.
"So how’s your day going," Miss Stella voiced out gently, turning back to her dough but still listening. "Better than yesterday?"
I shrugged. "It will be when I spit into his coffee before giving him."
The way she inhaled sharply made almost laugh. "...Katya."
"I’m joking," I said quickly, waving it off. "Don’t look at like that," I mumbled, sipping the coffee and checking the temperature. "I’m joking"
Miss Stella let out a slow breath, the kind that ca from her soul. "Katya..." she began, her voice dipping into that gentle warning tone she used whenever I said sothing I probably shouldn’t have.
"You must be careful with the things you say. Even joking....."
Oh no.
Not today.
"Mhmm, I know, I know," I cut in quickly, stuffing the last bite of bread into my mouth before she could start a full lecture. "Very wise. Very true. Totally heard you."
"Katya," she repeated, more firmly this ti, though still soft — like she refused to raise her voice even when I deserved it. "I an it. You cannot let anger twist—"
I stood up so fast my stool scraped against the floor."Right, right, absolutely. No twisting. No anger. Crystal clear."
"Kat—"
I grabbed a fresh mug, filled it with new, steaming coffee, and practically spun around the counter in one smooth escape move.
"Thank you for the bread! Love you! Bye!"
"Katya, wait—"
Too late. I edged toward the door like soone sidestepping a sacred warning they definitely should listen to but absolutely will not.
Miss Stella took a step forward, wiping her hands on her apron. "Katya, co back here. I am not finished. You must not—"
"Uh-huh, yes, Miss Stella, I hear you," I said, inching backwards into the hallway, "but if I don’t get this up to him right now, he’ll start yelling at !"
She opened her mouth again but I slipped through the doorway before any more wisdom could be launched at .
"Katya!"
"I’ll be back!" I called, already walking fast down the hall with the coffee in hand. "Promise! Later! Much later!"
Before she could follow, the kitchen doors swung shut behind , muffling whatever last bit of advice she tried to give.
Peace.
Silence. And my coffee-fueled determination to survive one more round with the house’s biggest demon.
††
Sick.
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