BREAKFAST

008

Just then, I became tense. I could feel the hairs on my hands standing on end. With all the strength I could muster, I pushed the figure in front of me and turned to run away.

Once I got outside, I closed the door and ran down the hallway. When I saw that I had reached a safe distance from the room, I paused to catch my breath.

“Who was that?” I asked myself. The voice wasn’t Stanley’s—I remembered his voice, and he didn’t sound like that. That voice belonged to someone else, I knew it for sure.

Just as I began sprinting again on my way back to my own room, my eyes locked onto a door—I had finally found what I was searching for. The name was boldly displayed at the top of the door: Candy.

“Could this be her room?” I thought. Without hesitation, I walked toward the door and knocked.

After the first knock, there was no reply on the other side. I knocked again, this time harder; still, no response. Just as I was about to knock for the third time, the door swung open—and behold, Candy was right in front of me, her glare unyielding.

Seeing me, she clenched her jaws, and without considering why I had come, she moved to slam the door shut. I immediately pushed against it and said, “Candy, wait—we need to talk. Please, I need your help.”

“And why the hell should I help you?” she snapped, irritation evident on her face. “You really have the nerve—after stealing my job just because you somehow managed to tie Mr. Stanley around your fingers—you think you can now do as you please?”

“Candy, it’s not what you think,” I replied, trying to convince her to let me speak, but she cut me off.

“If it’s not what I think, then what is it, huh? You walk into this house, suddenly take my place, and you expect me not to think you’re having an affair. You’re crazy!”

“Now leave my doorstep before I make you leave,” she snarled.

I stared at her—her face clenched, her chest rising and falling as she spoke. “Well, I was just about to leave,” I said. “All I wanted to ask was Mr. Stanley’s favorite dishes. You know what? I never wanted your job—it was given to me, and I don’t know how to do it without your help.”

Candy smirked. “I never wanted your job—it was given to me,” she mocked with a funny face. “Lies, all lies! But… out of my good heart and generosity, I’ll give you what you’re asking for.”

“Really?” I asked in surprise.

“On one condition?” she continued, and my smile faded.

I stared at her, not knowing what to say. I didn’t want to be tasked with something I couldn’t do, but I guess I had no choice. Heaving a heavy sigh, I asked, “What is it?”

She smirked. “You want to know Mr. Stanley’s favorite dishes? Then I want you to clean my feet with your bare hands.”

I stared at her in shock. Did she just ask me to clean her feet? I asked myself.

“Come on, I’m waiting,” she said. She removed her shoes and stretched out her feet toward me. “I don’t have all day, so get on it—unless you don’t want what you came for.”

I stared at her still. “It’s all okay, Alora. It’s just a matter of time before you’re out of here,” I told myself.

With that, I bent down slowly and took her feet in my hands. Just as I was about to clean them, she kicked me in the chest, and I fell to the floor.

Lying there, I stared at her, my chest heaving as tears welled up in my eyes. Candy chuckled and sneered, “That’s where you belong—on the floor. You’re not worth living in a house this luxurious; you’re meant to be a mat for people to dust their legs on.”

“Anyways, a promise is a promise. I’m not as cheap as you, after all. Mr. Stanley takes rice and salad in the morning and goes to work until evening. Once he’s back, he likes a refreshing juice first and then fries with eggs. Now that you’ve got what you wanted, I want you off my doorstep.”

I glared at her, anger flaring. I wanted to stand up and give her a piece of my mind, but I held myself back—it was my first day in the house, and I wanted no trouble. I stood up from the floor, turned, and began walking away. In the distance, Candy slammed her door.

**********

The next morning, I felt a hand tapping me, but my eyelids refused to open.

“Alora, wake up,” a voice said, but still I couldn’t.

I turned around, using the sheets to wrap myself up. I was extremely tired and needed rest, but then the voice spoke again—and what I heard made my eyes blink open.

“Are you forgetting you’re to prepare Mr. Stanley’s meals?” the voice said.

I turned and saw that it was the maid who had been kind to me and had shown me my room. Squinting to drive away the sleep, I asked, “You—what are you doing here? What time is it?”

“This is 3:54 a.m.,” the maid replied.

“It’s just 3, then why’d you wake me up?”

She laughed. “Sorry, it slipped my mind yesterday. Well, everyone else in the house usually gets up by 4 a.m. so that nothing delays Mr. Stanley. If you’re not efficient or good at what you do, you’ll get fired. This is your second day—you can’t afford to get fired on your second day.”

I placed a hand on my forehead. “I signed up for this,” I muttered to myself. “I’ll finish it.”

Dragging myself out of bed, I followed the maid out of my room and down the hall. The grand chandeliers above cast a golden glow over the polished floors, and the silence of the early morning made every footstep echo.

By the time we reached the kitchen, I had fully woken up.

I inhaled deeply, my mind flashing back to Candy’s words. Rice and salad for breakfast. That didn’t seem too hard. At least, I hoped it wasn’t.

The kitchen was already bustling with activity, Several maids and butlers moved around like clockwork, setting the table, chopping vegetables, and preparing dishes for the day.

I glanced to my side and spotted Candy, her ever-present smirk plastered on her face. She moved swiftly, her hands skillfully preparing meals.

"Hurry, Alora. You don't want Mr. Stanley angry," she called out mockingly.

I clenched my jaw, turning my glare toward her. “Thanks, but I didn’t need you to remind me.”

She rolled her eyes and went back to her task, but her smirk only deepened.

I took a deep breath and focused on my cooking. The rice simmered gently, and I chopped the vegetables for the salad. Every movement had to be precise—I couldn’t afford to mess up. Not on my first day.

Yet, despite my best efforts, a nagging doubt settled in my chest. Was this really going to be enough to satisfy a man like Stanley Richardson?

By the time I finished, an hour had slipped by. Surprisingly, Candy was done at the same time.

My gaze flickered to the multiple dishes she had prepared—enough food for the entire household. Meanwhile, I had only prepared one plate for one very entitled man.

Still, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment. At least I hadn’t burned anything.

Glancing at the clock, I realized it was almost six A.M. The dining room was already set, the table adorned with silverware and crystal glasses. The maids and butlers took their seats—yes, on the same table as Stanley.

A sharp contrast to what I was used to.

Candy had already started serving everyone, her movements effortless, her smile never fading.

Then came my turn.

Balancing the tray carefully, I walked toward Stanley, my hands damp with nerves.

The moment I stepped in front of him, I felt the shift in the air. His presence alone was enough to make my stomach tighten.

I placed the tray down, the plate settling in front of him. Rice and salad.

Silence stretched between us.

Stanley didn’t move. He didn’t say a word. He simply stared at the plate. Then at me. Then back at the plate.

My heart pounded with each passing second. Why was he looking at it like that?

A muffled chuckle reached my ears—Candy and the maid from before, barely holding back their laughter.

Something was wrong.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to hold his gaze. His amber eyes burned with something unreadable. His fingers tapped against the table, slow and deliberate.

And then…