Chapter six

It was remarkably easy to overlook someone when you believed they had nothing worth noticing.

Lina Tenneson had never considered herself a particularly difficult person to please. She simply liked things done properly. Her clothes had to fit well, her hair had to look presentable, and her surroundings had to reflect the standards she had grown accustomed to. It was hardly unreasonable, in her opinion. She had been raised in a home where quality was expected, not requested.

That morning, she was seated before the dressing table in her bedroom, examining two pairs of earrings with the seriousness of someone making a considerably more important decision.

Her bedroom was one of the largest in the eastern wing of the mansion. Tall windows overlooked the manicured gardens, and the morning sunlight filtered through layers of sheer ivory curtains, casting a warm glow across the pale cream walls.

A pair of dusty-rose armchairs sat beside a small round table near the window, while a large upholstered bed occupied the centre of the room. Its blush-pink duvet was neatly arranged, the pillows positioned against a padded headboard decorated with delicate button detailing. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, its polished surfaces catching the sunlight whenever the curtains moved.

The room was unmistakably feminine without being childish. Framed fashion illustrations decorated one wall, and a glass cabinet displayed a carefully arranged collection of perfumes, handbags and jewellery. Everything had its place. Even the books on the small writing desk were arranged by size, with a few fashion magazines resting on top.

Lina wore a pale pink silk robe over a matching camisole. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and a thin gold chain rested against her collarbone .She had already spent twenty minutes deciding what to wear for the following afternoon.

On the screen of her phone, a girl with dark, shoulder-length hair was lying across a cream-coloured sofa. She wore a white sleeveless top, and her neatly shaped eyebrows lifted as Lina held the earrings closer to the camera.

“Which one?”

Vanessa leaned towards her screen. “The gold ones.”

“These?”

“Yes. The little gold drops. The other ones are pretty, but they’re a bit too much for lunch.”

Lina turned the earring between her fingers. It was a delicate gold drop design, with a small oval stone suspended beneath a fine, polished hook. The other pair was larger, decorated with tiny crystals that caught the light whenever she moved them.

“I don’t know. I feel like the gold ones are too simple.”

“You’re going to lunch, Lina, not accepting an award.”

Lina gave her a look.

Vanessa laughed. “I’m serious. It’s a family lunch. Your parents, probably a few people from your father’s business circle, your mom’s friends and former colleagues. You don’t need to look like you’re attending a red-carpet event.”

“That’s exactly why I need to look good. There’ll be people there.”

“People who have seen you before?”

“Obviously.”

“Then I’m sure they’ll survive if you wear simple earrings.”

Lina rolled her eyes, but she placed the crystal pair back into its jewellery box.

The lunch was scheduled for the following afternoon at the Tennesons’ city residence. Elena had invited a few family acquaintances for an informal gathering. It was not a business meeting, although some of her father’s associates would be present. Lina knew that meant conversations about investments, travel and other matters she was expected to understand. She also knew there would be photographs.

She wanted to look effortless, which was considerably more difficult than it sounded.

“Have you decided what you’re wearing?” Vanessa asked.

“The cream dress. The one with the fitted waist.”

“The one you wore to the gallery?”

“No, the other one. The one with the square neckline.”

“Oh, that one is lovely. Wear your hair up.”

Lina considered it. “Maybe.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I’m particular.”

“Same thing.”

Lina smiled and reached for the small gold earrings. She held them against her ears, studying her reflection. She liked the way they softened her features without drawing too much attention.

There were things Lina cared about that people rarely noticed. She enjoyed fashion, but it was not simply about expensive clothes or being admired. She liked understanding why certain colours worked together, why a particular cut suited one person better than another, and how a carefully chosen accessory could change the entire impression of an outfit. She read fashion magazines, followed designers and could spend hours discussing the history of a collection.

She also liked business, although she was less comfortable admitting how much she struggled with it.

Her brothers seemed to understand things that she had to work twice as hard to grasp. Adrian could listen to a conversation about company operations and identify the problem almost immediately. Julian had a way of looking at figures that made complicated things seem embarrassingly simple. Even Ethan, who rarely appeared interested in anything for very long, could remember details about investments that Lina had forgotten.

She wanted to be able to do that too.

Not because she wanted to take over the family business. At least, that was what she told herself. She simply wanted to be taken seriously when she spoke about something beyond clothes, parties and social engagements.

“Are you still thinking about that economics class?” Vanessa asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Lina lowered the earring. “What about it?”

“You said you wanted to do better this term.”

“I do.”

“Have you actually started studying?”

“I’ve been reading.”

“Reading and understanding are two different things.”

Lina’s expression tightened. “Thank you for the encouragement.”

“I’m encouraging you to study.”

“I know the basics, Vanessa. I just don’t understand why Mr. Cole makes everything so complicated.”

“Maybe because it’s economics.”

“Very funny.”

Vanessa laughed again.

Lina returned the earrings to her ears. She was interested in economics, especially when her brothers discussed the family’s business. She liked hearing about markets, investments and the decisions that could make or break an entire company. But interest did not always translate into ability. She could remember definitions and explain concepts when she had enough time to prepare, yet the moment she was asked to apply them to unfamiliar situations, her confidence tended to disappear.

It annoyed her.

She was not accustomed to being naturally poor at something she genuinely wanted to understand.

“Anyway,” Vanessa continued, “are you coming to the boutique with me on Saturday?”

“I’ll see.”

“You always say that.”

“Because I never know what my family has planned.”

“You’re coming. I need an honest opinion on a dress.”

“You need someone to tell you that the dress is ugly.”

“Exactly. That’s why I called you.”

Lina laughed.

A soft knock interrupted them.

“Come in,” she called, still looking at her reflection.

The door opened, and a young woman stepped inside carrying a rectangular woven basket against her waist. The basket was made from pale honey-coloured wicker, its handles wrapped in a narrow strip of cream fabric. Inside were several neatly folded towels, their white cotton surfaces marked by fine grey stitching along the edges.

The young woman wore the household’s simple work uniform: a crisp white blouse beneath a charcoal-grey dress, with a narrow apron tied neatly around her waist. Her dark brown hair was gathered into a low ponytail, and a few loose strands framed her face. She walked carefully, keeping the basket steady as she approached the wardrobe.

“Excuse me, miss. I’ve brought the fresh towels.”

Lina glanced at her through the mirror.

It was Rosella.

“Put them over there,” Lina said, gesturing towards the bench beside the wardrobe.

Rosella nodded. “Yes, miss.”

On the phone, Vanessa leaned closer to her camera. “Who is that?”

“One of the workers,” Lina said dismissively, picking up her perfume.

Rosella heard the words, though she gave no indication that she had. She placed the basket on the bench and began arranging the towels. The cotton was soft and thick, each one folded into a precise rectangle. She adjusted the corners of the top towel before moving the remaining ones into a neat stack.

Vanessa studied the screen for a moment. “Oh.”

Rosella finished arranging the towels and turned towards the door.

“Is there anything else you need, miss?”

“No.”

“All right. Have a good morning.”

She left quietly, closing the door behind her.

Lina watched her reflection for a moment before returning her attention to Vanessa.

“Anyway, where were we?”

Vanessa shook her head. “You were telling me about your housemaid.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“She seems young. Like our age.”

“She’s a maid, Vanessa. I don’t know why you’re interested in her.”

Lina turned back to her dressing table, but her attention had already shifted elsewhere. The girl had been in the room for barely two minutes, yet Lina had noticed how carefully she handled everything. Even the towels had been arranged as though she were preparing a display.

It was unnecessary.

There was nothing impressive about folding towels.

And yet, Lina had the uncomfortable feeling that Rosella somehow managed to make ordinary things look deliberate.

She dismissed the thought.

“Send me a picture of the dress you’re wearing tomorrow,” Vanessa said.

“I will.”

“And don’t forget Saturday.”

“I won’t.”

“Oh, did you hear about the…….”

The mansion was already busy by the time Rosella finished her morning duties.

Sunlight spread across the polished floors of the main corridor, illuminating the framed photographs and paintings that decorated the walls. Somewhere downstairs, the sound of cutlery being arranged came from the dining room, accompanied by the low murmur of staff preparing breakfast.

Rosella carried the empty basket towards the laundry room, her thoughts wandering as she walked.

She had begun to understand the rhythm of the house. Mrs. Grace liked the breakfast table prepared before the family came downstairs. The upstairs corridors had to be checked after the bedrooms were attended to, and the guest rooms were to remain presentable even when nobody was expected. There were rules for almost everything, though most were easy enough to remember once she had seen them done.

What she had not yet grown accustomed to was the silence.

At home, there had rarely been complete silence. Even when Mira was resting, there had been the distant sound of neighbours talking, a radio playing somewhere, or the occasional vehicle passing along the road. Here, the walls were thick, the windows carefully fitted, and the household staff moved with an efficiency that seemed designed to keep every unnecessary sound away.

Sometimes, the quiet made her feel as though she were intruding.

She missed her mother.

The thought came so suddenly that Rosella slowed her steps.

It had been several days since the funeral, but grief did not seem to understand the passage of time. It appeared in unexpected places: when she saw a particular shade of blue, when she smelled a familiar soap, or when she reached for her phone and remembered there was no one waiting for her call.

She had promised herself she would not allow sorrow to interfere with the opportunity she had been given. Her mother had wanted her to continue school. She had wanted her to build a life that was not limited by the circumstances of her birth.

Rosella tightened her fingers around the basket handle.

‘I came here for a reason. I cannot afford to forget that.’

“Rosella.”

She looked up.

Mrs. Grace stood at the entrance to the laundry room, holding a small notepad. Her dark hair was arranged in its usual low bun, and her charcoal-grey uniform was immaculate. A silver wristwatch rested against her left wrist.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Have you finished with the upstairs rooms?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve also replaced the towels in Miss Lina’s bathroom.”

“Good. Come and have something to eat before you start the next task.”

Rosella hesitated. “I’ve already had breakfast, ma’am.”

Mrs. Grace looked at her.

“Tea and two slices of toast are not breakfast.”

Rosella gave a small, embarrassed smile.

“I wasn’t very hungry earlier.”

“That is not a reason to spend the entire morning working on an empty stomach.”

Mrs. Grace’s voice was firm, but there was no harshness in it. Rosella had begun to recognise that particular quality about her. She did not speak unnecessarily, and she rarely repeated herself. Yet, beneath her professional manner, there was a kindness that appeared in small, practical gestures.

“Come along,” she said. “There is still some food in the kitchen.”

Rosella followed her.

During the short walk, Mrs. Grace glanced at her.

“How are you settling in?”

“Very well, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Are you certain?”

Rosella considered the question. “I’m still learning where everything is, but I’m getting used to the routine.”

“That takes time. Don’t be afraid to ask questions when you’re unsure about something. I would rather explain a task twice than have you make an avoidable mistake.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And how is your school preparation coming along?”

Rosella’s expression brightened slightly.

“I’ve arranged most of my documents. I only need to confirm the final registration details.”

“Good. You should have your education in order before the term begins.”

“I will.”

Mrs. Grace nodded.

She had noticed that the young woman rarely complained. Even when she looked tired, she completed her tasks without drawing attention to herself. There was something familiar about that kind of determination, though Mrs. Grace could not immediately place it. Perhaps it reminded her of her younger self, when she had first entered domestic service and believed that hard work could open doors that money had kept closed.

She did not want Rosella to mistake kindness for an absence of expectations. The girl had a job to do, and the household had standards to maintain. But there was no reason she could not be treated with dignity while doing it.

Breakfast was served in the main dining room shortly after eight.

The room was bright and spacious, with tall windows overlooking the gardens. A long rectangular table made from polished dark wood occupied the centre, its surface reflecting the light from the crystal chandelier above. Fresh flowers stood in a low arrangement near the middle, and the silver cutlery had been placed beside white porcelain plates edged with a thin gold border.

By the time breakfast was ready to be served, the dining room had become a quiet hive of activity. The Tenneson estate employed approximately twenty household staff members, each assigned specific responsibilities to ensure the mansion ran as smoothly as it appeared. From the housekeeping team and kitchen assistants to the laundry attendants, gardeners and maintenance personnel, everyone had a role to play. Mrs. Grace supervised the household operations, while the kitchen staff worked under the direction of the head cook, ensuring that meals were prepared and served according to the family’s preferences.

That morning, several workers moved between the kitchen and dining room, carrying trays and arranging the final details. Rosella carefully balanced a wide porcelain plate of golden waffles, their edges lightly crisp and their surfaces arranged in a neat stack beside a small bowl of fresh strawberries. Another worker followed with a platter of grilled sausages and scrambled eggs, while Christiana carried a glass jug of freshly squeezed orange juice. Two other attendants were busy arranging the cutlery, placing folded napkins beside each plate and checking that the water glasses were filled. Near the sideboard, one of the kitchen assistants arranged small bowls of sliced fruit and buttered toast, while another made a final adjustment to the flowers at the centre of the table.

Their uniforms were crisp and coordinated, consisting of neatly pressed white shirts, dark trousers or skirts and charcoal-grey aprons. Their appearance was modest but immaculate, and there was an unspoken expectation that every member of staff should look as organised as the household they served. Even their movements seemed rehearsed. Nobody needed to raise their voice or issue repeated instructions; each person understood what needed to be done and where they were expected to be.

The arrival of the family, however, occasionally disrupted that carefully maintained rhythm, particularly for some of the younger employees. A few of them became noticeably more conscious of their movements whenever Adrian or Julian entered the room. Others struggled to hide their nervousness around Ethan, whose casual greetings and occasional jokes could catch them off guard. Elena was generally easier to approach, often acknowledging the staff with a warm smile or a quiet greeting. Alexander, on the other hand, commanded a different kind of attention. His presence alone was enough to make even the most experienced workers straighten their backs and become especially mindful of their duties.

Christiana, who had been working at the estate long enough to understand its routines, moved with considerably more confidence. She greeted Rosella with a brief smile as they placed the last of the breakfast items on the table.

“Careful with that plate,” she whispered, noticing Rosella adjusting her grip. “The waffles are still warm.”

Rosella smiled faintly. “I’ve got it.”

“Good. Mrs. Grace will be checking the table in a minute.”

Across the room, another attendant was polishing a serving spoon while a younger kitchen assistant hurried to replace a misplaced napkin. Mrs. Grace stood near the entrance, observing the arrangements with her usual composed expression. She gave a small nod when she was satisfied, and the workers began withdrawing towards their respective stations, leaving only those assigned to remain available during service.

Within moments, the dining room had settled into its familiar elegance. The food was arranged, the cutlery gleamed beneath the chandelier, and the last traces of activity disappeared behind the double doors. To anyone entering the room, it would have seemed as though breakfast had simply appeared on the table by itself. Only the staff knew how many hands had been involved in making it look effortless.

The family had already gathered.

Elena sat near the head of the table, dressed in a soft ivory blouse and tailored beige trousers. Her honey-blonde hair fell neatly around her shoulders, and a pair of small pearl earrings completed her understated appearance. She was speaking to Adrian, who sat beside her in a navy shirt with the sleeves folded to his elbows.

Julian was looking at a tablet propped against a glass of water. He wore a dark, fitted shirt and appeared more interested in the figures on his screen than the food in front of him. Ethan, meanwhile, was leaning back in his chair, dressed casually in a black T-shirt, scrolling through his phone between bites of toast.

Lina entered a moment later.

She wore a pale pink blouse tucked into a cream skirt, her hair falling in carefully arranged waves. The small gold earrings she had selected earlier caught the light as she took her seat.

“Good morning,” Elena greeted her.

“Morning, Mum.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

“Have you decided what you’re wearing tomorrow?”

Lina reached for her glass. “The cream dress.”

“That lovely one you wore to the gallery?”

“No, the other one.”

Elena smiled. “I know the one. It will be perfect.”

Lina looked pleased.

Across the table, Julian placed his tablet down.

“Adrian, did you see the revised figures from the western branch?”

Adrian nodded. “I went through them last night.”

“And?”

“I think the projection is optimistic.”

Julian picked up his glass. “That’s what I thought.”

“What projection?” Elena asked.

“The western branch’s sales forecast,” Adrian replied. “They expect demand to increase by almost twelve percent over the next quarter.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ethan asked.

“It would be if the assumptions behind the forecast were realistic,” Julian said.

Ethan shrugged. “If people are buying, people are buying.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Well, that’s how I understand it.”

Adrian gave him a brief look. “Then you should probably stop explaining it.”

Ethan laughed, seemingly unbothered.

Lina sat a little straighter.

She recognised the subject. Her brothers had discussed the western branch several times, and she had read the summary Julian sent to their father. She knew the projected increase had something to do with the new distribution arrangement and a change in pricing.

She had tried to understand the report, but some of the calculations had made her head ache.

Still, she wanted to contribute.

“The new distribution arrangement should help, shouldn’t it?” she asked. “If they’re reaching more customers, sales should increase.”

Julian glanced at her.

“Potentially.”

Lina frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means reaching more customers doesn’t automatically mean they’ll buy more.”

“But if the products are available in more places—”

“Availability is only one part of demand,” Julian explained. “People also need to be willing and able to purchase them.”

Lina nodded slowly, trying to follow.

She disliked the way Julian explained things sometimes. He had a habit of making people feel as though they should already know the answer. It was not always intentional, but it made asking questions unnecessarily uncomfortable.

She wanted to understand. She genuinely did. Yet every time she struggled to follow a conversation, she became conscious of how easily her brothers moved through it.

Adrian reached for his coffee.

“The issue is that the forecast assumes the current purchasing pattern will remain stable. It doesn’t properly account for the recent increase in household expenses.”

Elena looked towards him. “You mean inflation?”

“Among other things.”

Julian nodded. “If the prices of essential goods continue rising, customers may reduce their spending on items they consider less important. The branch could reach more people and still fail to meet its target.”

Rosella, who had entered with a tray of freshly prepared dishes, slowed slightly as she approached the sideboard.

She had not intended to listen. She was simply setting down the food, but the conversation caught her attention.

Inflation.

Household expenses.

Consumer demand.

She placed the tray carefully on the sideboard and began arranging the dishes. A bowl of sliced fruit sat beside a plate of buttered toast. There were scrambled eggs, grilled sausages, small portions of sautéed vegetables and a pot of tea. The smell of warm bread and freshly brewed coffee filled the room.

Rosella’s attention remained on the conversation.

She knew something about the subject. Not enough to claim expertise, but enough to recognise the assumptions being discussed.

She had spent years watching her mother calculate the cost of ordinary things. The price of rice, cooking oil, transport and medication had never been abstract figures in their home. They were decisions. Every increase meant something had to be adjusted, postponed or removed from the shopping list.

She remembered sitting beside Mira at the small kitchen table, helping her compare prices between two shops. Sometimes they would buy a smaller quantity of something because it was all they could afford. Other times, her mother would return from the market with fewer items than she had planned to purchase.

As a child, Rosella had thought those decisions were simply part of being poor.

As she grew older, she began to understand that they were connected to something much larger.

‘When the price of food rises, it doesn’t affect everyone in the same way,’ she thought. ‘A family that spends a small part of its income on food may hardly notice the difference. But for a family that already uses most of its money to buy essentials, even a slight increase can change everything.’

She glanced towards the table.

The conversation had moved to the western branch’s customer profile. Julian was explaining how the company intended to attract customers from a slightly different income bracket.

Rosella considered the point.

If the company was planning to expand its customer base, it would need to understand what those customers could realistically afford. More importantly, it would need to distinguish between what people wanted and what they could comfortably purchase.

Rosella murmured almost to herself, “I think the forecast might be overlooking the difference between customer interest and purchasing power.”

Julian leaned back slightly, having caught her remark. His interest was immediately piqued.

“Explain.”

“Sir?”

“What you said just now, explain it.”

Rosella hesitated for a few moments. She realised she had spoken aloud and had no choice but to explain herself rather than embarrass herself further.

“If the branch is reaching more customers, that doesn’t necessarily mean those customers will spend more. Especially if their income hasn’t increased at the same rate as the prices of essential goods. They might be interested in the products, but still choose not to buy them if they have other expenses to consider.”

Adrian looked at her.

Rosella paused, unsure if she should continue.

“For example, when the prices of food, transport and other necessities increase, people usually become more careful about what they spend on. They might postpone buying something they don’t consider essential, even if they can afford it under normal circumstances. So the branch could have more visitors without seeing the same increase in actual purchases.”

There was a brief silence.

Julian studied her for a moment.

“That’s a fair point. What do you think the branch should be looking at instead?”

Rosella was surprised by the question.

She had expected him to acknowledge her comment and return to the conversation. Instead, he was waiting for an answer.

She gathered her thoughts.

“Perhaps they should look at the spending patterns of the customers they’re trying to attract. Not just their income, but how much of it is already committed to necessities. If the products are considered discretionary purchases, then the company may need to adjust its expectations or offer options that are more affordable.”

Adrian nodded slowly.

“She’s right about the distinction. The report focuses heavily on reach and availability. It doesn’t give enough attention to how much disposable income the target customers actually have.”

Julian glanced down at his tablet.

“I’ll ask the research team to include that in the revised analysis.”

Elena smiled at Rosella.

“That’s a thoughtful observation. Do you have an interest in business-related topics?”

Rosella felt a little warmth rise to her cheeks.

“Yes, ma’am. They’re my favourite subjects.”

“Really? What made you interested in them?”

Rosella looked down briefly, thinking about how to answer.

“I suppose I wanted to understand why things happen the way they do. When I was younger, my mother and I used to calculate the cost of things before going to the market. Sometimes we’d have to change our plans because the prices had gone up. I started wondering why that happened and why some families seemed to struggle more than others.”

Her voice softened.

“I think I wanted to understand the things that affected ordinary people. Not just the numbers, but what those numbers meant in their lives.”

For a moment, the room seemed quieter.

Elena’s expression changed. There was something in the young woman’s answer that touched her. Perhaps it was the way she spoke about her mother, or the affection that remained so evident even when she was discussing something as ordinary as market prices.

“That’s a lovely reason to study a subject,” Elena said.

Rosella smiled. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Julian returned to his tablet, but his attention had shifted. He glanced at the girl once more, then at the report.

He had not expected such a considered response from someone who had been hired to assist with household duties, but he was willing to acknowledge a good observation when he heard one.

Adrian was similarly thoughtful.

He had spent enough time around people to know that intelligence did not always announce itself through qualifications or titles. Sometimes it appeared in the way someone approached a problem. Rosella had not tried to impress anyone. She had simply identified a weakness in the argument and explained why it mattered.

He found that more interesting than he wanted to admit.

Ethan looked between his brothers and Rosella.

Lina, however, had barely touched her food.

She had been listening to the entire exchange, and each passing moment had made her increasingly uncomfortable.

It wasn’t that Rosella had said anything offensive. She hadn’t interrupted rudely or challenged anyone. In fact, she had spoken with such caution that it was difficult to accuse her of deliberately seeking attention.

That was what bothered Lina.

She had spent months trying to understand the same kinds of conversations. She had asked Julian questions, read articles and attempted to make sense of the reports her brothers discussed. Yet, here was a girl who had been working in their home for less than a week, offering an observation that even Adrian had agreed with.

And everyone had listened.

Elena had complimented her. Julian had asked for her opinion. Adrian had supported her point.

Lina felt something unpleasant settle in her chest.

‘Of course. Everyone has to make a fuss.’

She looked down at her plate.

It was ridiculous. Rosella was a housemaid. A temporary employee who happened to be attending school. There was no reason for Lina to feel threatened by her.

Yet, she did.

She had always been the only daughter in the family. Her brothers had their own interests, and her parents had their responsibilities, but there had never been any question about where she stood. She was Elena’s daughter, the family’s princess, the girl everyone expected to shine in her own way.

She did not like the idea of someone else walking into that space and receiving attention so easily.

Especially someone who was supposed to be working for them.

“Well,” Lina said, reaching for her glass, “I didn’t realise we were having a business meeting at breakfast.”

Rosella lowered her eyes and returned to the sideboard.

She had not intended to make the conversation about herself. Now that she had spoken, she wondered whether she had overstepped.

‘I should’ve kept quiet.’

She began clearing the empty serving dishes.

“Rosella,” Elena called.

She turned. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Thank you. That was an interesting contribution.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

Rosella picked up the tray and left the room.

Lina watched her go.

Lina had always believed that her place in the family was secure. She was the only daughter, the one who had grown up surrounded by comfort, affection and every opportunity money could provide. She had never needed to question whether she belonged or whether she deserved to be heard. Yet, in the space of a single breakfast, a girl who had arrived in their home as a household employee had managed to attract the kind of attention Lina had been quietly working towards. It wasn’t fair, she thought. Rosella hadn’t even tried to impress anyone, and somehow that made it worse. Lina couldn’t explain why the girl’s presence bothered her so much, but she knew one thing: she didn’t want Rosella becoming someone the family looked forward to hearing from.

And that was the first time Lina realised she might not be as comfortable with Rosella’s presence as she had initially believed.

Then she returned to her breakfast, determined not to let a simple conversation ruin her morning.