A New Presence

Marcus! Wake up, son." Aya's voice echoed down the hallway, breaking through the morning stillness.

A groggy mumble came from beneath the thick blankets. "Ugh... Mom, why are you so loud?" Marcus groaned, shifting to bury his face into the pillow.

Aya strode into his room, hands on her hips, her expression torn between amusement and exasperation. "Did you forget? It's your cousin's birthday today! Your grandfather expects you to be there, and I won't have you making excuses. Now, get up and get ready for breakfast."

Marcus sighed heavily, rubbing his temples before dragging himself out of bed. He trudged downstairs, barely awake, when Aya added, "Oh, by the way, Irish went home last night to help with her brother's wedding. She'll be gone for a while. In her place, we have a friend of hers… her name is Ella. I hope you like her cooking."

Still sleepy, Marcus barely paid attention—until he stepped into the dining room.

Standing near the table, adjusting a serving tray, was a woman he had never seen before. Marcus froze. His drowsiness vanished in an instant.

She was striking—her beauty natural and effortless. With dark, korean luminous eyes that held an unreadable depth, a delicate nose, and lips naturally tinged with red, she carried herself with quiet grace. Her skin was smooth and fair, as if untouched by hardship, yet there was something in her stance that hinted at resilience.

"Good morning, ma'am. Good morning, sir. Your breakfast is ready," Ella greeted, her voice warm and inviting.

Marcus stared, caught off guard. Is she really the new cook? He thought himself, but something about her presence unsettled him.

"Let's eat," Aya said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Still frowning, Marcus took his seat but soon grew irritated by the maids lingering in the dining hall. "Mom, tell them to get out. I don't want strangers staring at me while I eat," he muttered, his voice edged with impatience.

Aya gave him a pointed look but turned to the maids with a polite nod. "Ladies, can you step out for a moment? I'll call you back when we're done."

The women exchanged glances before leaving. Ella, too, turned to go, but Marcus found his eyes trailing after her against his will.

"Marcus, what do you think of the food?" Aya's voice snapped him back.

Marcus took a bite and paused. "It's… good," he admitted, though he tried to sound indifferent. His mother smirked knowingly.

"Irish has been cooking for us for years, but I must say, this is quite impressive," Aya remarked, glancing toward the door where Ella had exited. "I suppose you'll have to forget about your diet today."

Marcus didn't reply, focusing on his plate instead.

In the maid's quarters, Ella sat quietly, sipping a cup of tea when Eden, one of the household staff, turned to her curiously. "So, how long are you staying with the Jones family?"

Ella hesitated. "I'm not sure. Irish said she'd be gone for about ten days, but I don't know if they'll need me beyond that."

Before Eden could respond, Aya entered the room. "Eden, can you give us a moment?" she asked.

Eden nodded and quickly left.

Aya stepped forward, her gaze fixed on Ella. "I want you to stay. Become our permanent cook."

Ella blinked in surprise. "But… what about Irish?"

Aya's expression didn't waver. "I've already arranged something for her. She'll be working for my brother's household instead. You'll stay here."

Ella hesitated. "I… I appreciate the offer, but—"

Aya cut her off. "If you don't want the job, that's fine. I just need a clear answer."

Ella swallowed hard, her mind racing. She needed the money. Her mother's medical bills were piling up. Opportunities like this didn't come often.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll take the job," she finally said, determination lacing her voice.

Aya smiled. "Good. Carlos will take you home later to collect your things."

The Jones family was one of the wealthiest in Texas City, their influence stretching across multiple industries. Despite their wealth, they were known for their generosity, a trait that came from the head of the family himself—Arthur Jones.

Arthur had always instilled values of humility and family into his grandsons, Marcus and Felix. Marcus, 28, carried an air of quiet mystery, his tanned complexion and sharp features making him stand out effortlessly. Felix, at 30, was equally charming but more openly charismatic, with an easy smile that won people over instantly.

"Happy birthday, Felix," Marcus greeted his cousin, giving him a quick, brotherly hug.

"Thanks, man. Grandpa's been waiting for you," Felix replied, guiding him toward the elder's table.

As they walked, they reminisced about their college days, their laughter filling the grand hall.

Arthur's booming voice soon interrupted them. "Marcus! My boy, come here!"

Marcus turned and found his grandfather looking at him, eyes filled with warmth and pride.

"I've missed you, too, Grandpa," Marcus said, taking a seat beside him. "I would've visited sooner, I've been so busy."

Arthur waved off his excuse. "No worries. I understand. But today is a special day, and there's someone I want you to meet."

Marcus arched a brow. "Who?"

Before Arthur could answer, a commotion at the entrance drew their attention. A young woman, tall and striking in a fitted red dress, walked in with effortless confidence.

Arthur's face lit up. "Ah, there she is. Marcus, meet Celine—my best friend's granddaughter."

Celine approached with a knowing smile. "So, you're Marcus? Your grandfather wasn't exaggerating—you are quite the handsome one."

Marcus forced a tight smile. "Uh… thanks."

Celine slid into the seat next to him, her movements deliberate. "Come on, don't be so stiff," she teased. "We'll be seeing a lot of each other soon."

Marcus frowned. "What do you mean?"

Arthur chuckled. "Marcus, don't be so surprised. It's time you settled down, and I couldn't think of a better match than Celine."

Marcus's expression darkened. What the hell is this? His grip on the glass in his hand tightened.

Celine leaned in closer, lowering her voice just enough for only him to hear. "Don't look so shocked, Marcus. This has been in the works for a while. And trust me… I always get what I want."

Marcus exhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain composed. But inside, anger simmered. He hated being controlled, and he hated being played even more.

For the first time that evening, his mind drifted to the new cook—the woman who stood quietly in the background, unnoticed, unlike the one sitting beside him.

Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't the only stranger in this house anymore.

Arthur Jones stood tall on the grand stage, his voice booming with pride as he addressed the guests gathered in the elegant ballroom. His silver hair gleamed under the chandelier's golden glow, his sharp eyes scanning the room with authority.

"For the past two decades, I have built my companies from the ground up, overcoming challenges, hardships, and sacrifices," Arthur declared. "But now, it is time for me to step back and enjoy my retirement. Tonight, I am announcing the next leader of the Jones Empire. Please join me in welcoming my grandson, Marcus!"

Applause thundered through the hall, and Aya's face lit up with joy at her father's announcement. She turned to her son, pride shining in her eyes, while Marcus sat frozen, processing the weight of Arthur's words.

He glanced at his cousin, Felix, who forced a smile, though his eyes betrayed his true emotions. Felix nodded at Marcus, giving him a subtle signal of support. Marcus exhaled deeply, straightening his suit before making his way to the stage.

Just as he was about to speak, Arthur raised his hand for silence. "And now, I have a second announcement."

The guests murmured in anticipation, curious about what the legendary businessman would reveal next.

"The new CEO of Jones Corporation will soon be married to the granddaughter of my dear friend—the most beautiful woman here tonight: Miss Celine Bayer of BELAYCON Company!"

The crowd erupted into another wave of cheers, but this time, Marcus felt his chest tighten. His moment of triumph was suddenly overshadowed by the weight of an unexpected engagement.

His hands trembled at his sides as he stared at Arthur in disbelief. Marry a woman I don't even know? Just to secure this position?

Celine, dressed in an elegant red crimson gown, gracefully rose from her seat, smiling as she made her way toward Marcus. She carried herself with confidence, her sharp gaze meeting his.

"Congratulations, Marcus," she said, her voice silky smooth. "Looks like we'll be partners in more ways than one."

Marcus forced a tight smile, his mind racing. He had worked for this position. He had earned it. But was his grandfather truly giving it to him, or was this a transaction disguised as an honor?

 He nodded at her, though his heart rebelled against the decision.

As the night went down, guests began to leave, but Marcus lingered in the hall, his mind heavy with thoughts. He finally spotted Felix near the bar, pouring himself a drink.

Marcus approached cautiously. "Felix… I didn't know this was going to happen. I swear, I never—"

Felix turned to him with a small, knowing smile. "It's okay, bro." His voice was calm, steady. "I always knew this day would come."

Marcus frowned. "Still… You deserved it just as much as I did. Maybe even more."

Felix chuckled, shaking his head. "You're my cousin, Marcus. We're family. If you win, I win too. Grandpa made his choice, and I respect that."

Marcus felt a pang of guilt. Felix had always been the bigger person—the one who put others first.

"Thank you," Marcus said, sincerity in his voice. "I don't know what I did to deserve a cousin like you."

Felix raised his glass in a toast. "Because you're like a brother to me. The Jones family only has us two. We have to stick together."

Their glasses clinked, and they downed their drinks, trying to drown the emotions neither wanted to voice.

After a few more drinks, Marcus felt the alcohol settling in. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "I should head home."

Felix smirked. "Are you sure? You seem like you could use a few more rounds."

Marcus laughed dryly. "I'll be fine."

Felix nodded. "Alright, drive safe, bro."

At the Jones estate, Aya sighed as she checked the time. It was getting late. She turned to Ella, who was clearing up the kitchen.

"Ella, can you prepare some noodles for Marcus when he gets home? He'll be tired—and probably drunk," Aya said with a tired smile.

Ella nodded. "Of course, ma'am. I'll wait for him."

"Thank you. I'm heading to bed." Aya stretched before disappearing upstairs.

Ella turned to the pantry, deciding on a dish she hadn't made in a long time—shifu ramen. She gathered the ingredients, chopping fresh vegetables as memories flooded her mind.

She could almost hear her mother's laughter, see her father's tired but grateful smile as he ate the steaming bowl of noodles she had prepared. Her mother, a proud Korean woman, had taught her to cook from a young age, running a small restaurant with her American father. It had been many years since her father's accident. Long years since everything changed.

Ella swallowed the lump in her throat and focused on her task.

Suddenly, the sharp blare of a car horn jolted her from her thoughts. She quickly turned off the stove and rushed outside.

As she opened the gate, her breath caught in her throat.

Marcus leaned against his sleek black car, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his tanned skin. Even with a hint of intoxication in his eyes, he looked effortlessly handsome.

Ella scolded herself for the thought. He's just my employer.

But Marcus wasn't thinking about that. As his gaze settled on her, he took in the sight of her in a simple blue pajama set. Her long black hair cascaded down her shoulders, slightly tousled, and for a brief moment, he was reminded of the lead actress from an old drama his mother used to watch—Stairway to Heaven.

She gave him a small, polite smile. "Come inside, sir."

Marcus wordlessly followed.

As soon as Marcus stepped into the kitchen, he was greeted by the rich aroma of freshly cooked ramen. The scent wrapped around him like a warm embrace.

His eyes softened. "What is that smell?" he murmured.

Ella turned, ladling the steaming broth into a bowl. "Your mother asked me to cook noodles for you. Please sit, sir."

He pulled out a chair and sat down as she placed the bowl in front of him. The delicate blend of spices, tender noodles, and fresh vegetables looked simple yet inviting.

He picked up the chopsticks and took a bite. The warmth of the broth spread through his chest, soothing the tension that had been weighing him down all night.

For a brief moment, the chaos of his life faded.

"This is good," he muttered, almost to himself.

Ella watched him silently, noticing the way his posture relaxed. She had seen this countless times in the restaurant—how food had a way of bringing comfort even in the worst moments.

"Thank you," Marcus said, meeting her gaze.

Ella simply nodded, not needing words to understand that in this moment, this simple bowl of noodles meant more to him than he'd admit.