Chapter Two: Unspoken Tensions

The kitchen of the Kingston Estate was massive—easily three times the size of any apartment Julianne had ever lived in. Gleaming countertops, state-of-the-art appliances, and shelves stocked with expensive ingredients surrounded her.

It should have been exciting. A fresh start, a stable job. But all she could think about was him—Adrian Kingston.

The way he had looked at her. Like she was nothing.

Julianne bit her lip as she unpacked her few belongings in the small but comfortable servant quarters. She wasn't expecting a warm welcome, but the sheer coldness in Adrian's eyes had sent a shiver down her spine. It was like he had built a wall around himself, one that no one was allowed to cross.

And then there was his son.

Liam.

The little boy's sad eyes lingered in her mind. The way he sat there, unmoving, staring blankly at the TV—it wasn't normal. No child should look that empty.

She sighed, pulling out a simple notebook where she had scribbled some meal ideas. Mrs. Collins had made one thing clear: Mr. Kingston expected perfection.

"Better get started," she muttered to herself.

Hours Later

Julianne placed the final dish on the table—a beautifully plated grilled salmon with garlic butter sauce, alongside mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. The kitchen smelled heavenly, and for the first time since arriving, she felt a small sense of accomplishment.

She wiped her hands on her apron and waited.

At exactly 8 PM, Adrian walked into the dining room.

Dressed in another impossibly expensive suit, he looked just as sharp and unreadable as before. His presence alone was enough to fill the room with tension. Liam trailed behind him, his tiny footsteps barely making a sound.

Julianne watched discreetly as they sat.

A housemaid poured Adrian a glass of wine before retreating into the background. He didn't acknowledge her. Did he acknowledge anyone?

Without a word, he picked up his fork and took a bite.

Julianne held her breath.

He chewed slowly, his face betraying nothing. Then, without looking up, he said, "It's acceptable."

That was it. No thank you. No approval. Just… acceptable.

Julianne clenched her fists but forced herself to stay calm. She wasn't here for praise. Just a job.

Across from Adrian, Liam barely touched his food. He poked at his salmon, his tiny shoulders slumped.

"Liam," Adrian said, his tone firm. "Eat."

The boy hesitated, then took a small bite. He chewed mechanically, as if just going through the motions.

Julianne's heart ached.

Before she could stop herself, she spoke.

"Do you like it, sweetheart?" she asked softly.

The room fell silent.

Liam blinked, looking at her in surprise. For a moment, he said nothing, as if he wasn't used to being asked such a question.

Adrian's fork paused mid-air. His cold gaze snapped to Julianne.

She froze.

Her stomach twisted—had she overstepped?

But before Adrian could say anything, a tiny, hesitant voice broke the silence.

"It's… nice," Liam whispered. His lips twitched slightly, almost forming a smile.

Julianne felt a rush of warmth.

Adrian, however, did not look pleased.

"You're the cook," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Not the nanny. Do your job and keep quiet."

Julianne's hands curled into fists, but she forced herself to lower her gaze.

"Understood, sir."

But as she turned away, she caught a glimpse of Liam.

He was still looking at her.

For the first time since she had arrived, there was something in his eyes that wasn't sadness.

Something new.

Hope.