The Maid's Warmth- What They Didn't See Coming

Alessia knelt gently beside Diana, her touch soft as she reached for her arm.

"Come now, dear. Let's get you cleaned up."

Diana blinked at her. Huh? She wasn't expecting... this kind of welcome. Especially not after being offered like livestock ten minutes ago.

The woman helped her up, and that's when Diana noticed—she wasn't just older... she was maybe in her late 50s. The gentle kind of woman you'd imagine bringing soup when you're sick. Not working in a mafia mansion.

"Um... thank you," Diana said softly.

Alessia smiled. "Aww, poor child," she whispered. "Hmm... have you eaten yet?"

Diana's stomach twisted so loud it answered for her.

She shook her head. "No... I haven't."

"Ah, I thought so," Alessia nodded knowingly. "Come on, let's get some food in you."

As they walked, Diana glanced sideways at her. "…Ma'am?"

Alessia paused. "You can just call me Alessia, sweet one. I'm a maid. Just like you now."

Diana chuckled a little. "Well... nope. You're old enough to be my mom. I can't just drop the 'ma'am.' That'd be rude."

Alessia gave her a soft laugh, pinching her cheek lightly. "You've got manners. I like that."

They reached the kitchen, and Diana couldn't help but glance around. Everything was spotless. Expensive. Even the pots looked like they belonged in a five-star restaurant.

Alessia moved like she'd done it a hundred times before, grabbing a pot and dishing out something warm and fragrant.

Diana hesitated. "…Um. Are we even allowed to eat in the dining room?"

Alessia turned and smiled, "Pfft. Of course we are. Don't let all this mafia drama fool you—this house has rules, but it ain't a prison. Not for us, anyway."

Phew. That was a relief.

They walked into the massive dining room. The table looked like it was meant for royalty. Crystal chandeliers. Velvet curtains. And here she was, in her wrinkled clothes, dragging her sore body into one of the cushioned chairs.

Diana took a bite.

Oh.

Ohhh.

This wasn't just food. This was healing. Her whole body practically melted into the seat. "God, this is so good," she mumbled with a full mouth.

Alessia chuckled. "Eat slowly before you choke, baby."

Diana grinned sheepishly. "No promises."

As she finished the soup, Alessia stood up and motioned for her to follow again.

"Time to see your room."

Diana didn't expect much. Maybe a mattress on the floor. Some shared space in a dusty corner.

But when they entered the room, her mouth dropped open slightly.

"What the... This is for me?"

It was... huge.

Creamy silk curtains. A queen-sized bed with a plush headboard. A full vanity. Even a walk-in closet.

"You sure I didn't accidentally marry into this family?" she muttered with a silly smile on her face.

Alessia sat gently at the edge of the bed. "It's yours, dear."

Diana lowered herself beside her, stunned. Then smiled softly.

"You're... so kind, Alessia. I wish I had a mother like you."

She glanced down at her feet, her voice barely above a whisper at the end.

Alessia looked at her, the warmth fading into concern. She was just about to say something when a few other maids entered with quiet greetings. They carried a stack of clothes—soft, elegant loungewear—and hung them carefully inside the wardrobe.

Diana watched silently.

She didn't even ask. What was the point?

After the maids left, Alessia stood and brushed a hand over Diana's hair.

"You take a bath, alright? I'll come check on you soon."

Diana nodded.

Then Alessia stepped out, closing the door softly behind her.

Diana stood there for a second, trying to let it all sink in.

Then she remembered—Wait... my phone?

She patted her pants pocket.

Zipped.

Secure.

She gasped softly. No way. She hadn't lost it after all.

She unzipped it quickly and pulled out the phone. But the second the screen blinked—

Dead.

She let out a groan. "Seriously?" she muttered, plopping down on the bed.

It figured. Of course it'd be dead now, when she actually needed to talk to someone—anyone—from the outside world.

She dropped the phone on the bed and sighed.

Then laid back on the mattress.

The ceiling above her was painted with intricate gold lines. Beautiful. Cold.

She closed her eyes, whispering to no one in particular:

"What the hell did I get myself into?"

The hallway was quiet when Alessia stepped out of Diana's room. She moved slowly, her body heavy from the long day. All she wanted was to sit down, maybe sip warm tea if her bones allowed. The maid quarters weren't far—just a short turn down the left wing of the house.

But as she reached the doorway, two younger maids stood in her path, arms folded, eyes full of spite.

"Well, well, look who's still breathing," one of them sneered, her tone as bitter as raw lemon. "Old lady still thinks she belongs here."

Alessia blinked, taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," the other one chimed in, lips curled into a smirk. "You really think you should still be working? You should be in some grandma home by now, not strolling around like you're the boss's favorite."

Alessia opened her mouth to speak, but before a word could escape, the first one shoved her—hard.

"Ugh—" Alessia gasped as her knees hit the tiled floor with a soft thud. Pain shot up her legs, but she didn't cry out. She just looked up, stunned, her hands bracing her fall.

"You know what I hate the most?" one of them spat, standing over her like she owned the place. "The way he treats you like you matter. Like you're special. What makes you so different, huh? Just because you've been here longer?"

Alessia didn't answer.

She didn't even flinch when the second girl picked up a full jug of water sitting by the door—and without hesitation—poured it over her head.

The cold soaked into her scalp, dripping down her face and blouse. Her gray hair clung to her cheeks. Her hands trembled slightly as the water hit her back.

Still, she said nothing.

Because she knew. They were bold like this only when Vincenzo wasn't home. And they knew Alessia would never run to him.

They were right.

She never did.

Upstairs, Diana had just changed into a fresh oversized T-shirt, ready to knock out for the night. She was reaching for the light switch when a strange thump echoed through the hallway.

Then voices.

What the hell...?

She froze, her brows pulling together.

That didn't sound normal.

A few seconds later, a muffled splash. Then

"Don't touch me!"

Diana's heart skipped.

She bolted for the door, yanked it open, and sprinted barefoot down the hall.

The sight that met her at the corridor nearly made her blood curdle.

Alessia.

On the floor.

Soaked to the bone. Her frail hands trembling. Two young maids standing over her like she was trash.

Diana didn't even hesitate.

"HEY!" she barked, rushing forward.

She crouched by Alessia, grabbing her arm. "What the fuck are you doing to her?!"

But before she could help her up, one of the girls shoved her too.

Diana stumbled back slightly, caught herself, and blinked—completely stunned for a second.

Then her jaw clenched.

Her spine straightened.

"Oh, you messed with the wrong one."

She stepped forward and without thinking—SMACK—slapped one of the girls so hard her head twisted sideways.

The echo of that slap could've cracked glass.

"You're out of your fucking mind," Diana hissed, yanking the second one by the hair and dragging her down to her knees.

"Apologize. Right now." Her voice was steady, dangerous.

Even Alessia looked stunned.

Diana wasn't done.

She glared down at the girl on her knees. "Do you not have shame? No respect for elderly people? Huh? What if she was your mother? Would you treat her like this?"

The girl stuttered, her mouth moving but no words forming.

The other one—humiliated and furious—grabbed a vase off the shelf and lunged forward.

Diana caught the movement from the corner of her eye.

Oh hell no.

She ducked.

CRACK.

The vase hit her own friend—the girl still kneeling—square in the head.

She collapsed instantly.

Unconscious.

The vase shattered on impact, shards bouncing across the tiles.

Diana straightened slowly, breath heavy, her chest rising and falling with rage.

She let go of the hair in her hand as the second girl stared in horror at what she'd just done.

Diana didn't say a word.

She turned and walked to Alessia, crouched beside her again.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentler now.

Alessia blinked, trying to process everything. Her lip trembled, but she nodded. "Y-Yes… thank you, child…"

Diana slipped an arm around her shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you to your room."

What neither of them noticed was the tall shadow standing just past the hallway—near the front door.

Vincenzo had arrived minutes ago. Quietly. Silently. Watching everything from the shadows.

He saw it all.

The slap.

The fall.

The fury in Diana's voice.

The way she stood there like she owned the goddamn house.

And it did something to him.

Something he wasn't used to.

But he said nothing.

Not yet.

Diana guided Alessia carefully into her room and helped her sit at the edge of the bed.

Alessia looked at her, eyes full of silent gratitude. "I don't know what I did to deserve that kindness… but thank you."

Diana just gave a soft smile, wiping a stray wet strand from the woman's forehead. "Don't thank me. I don't tolerate bullshit, that's all."

She stood. "I'm gonna go take that bath now. I'll come check on you after."

Alessia nodded, her eyes lingering on Diana like she was still trying to understand her.

Diana turned and walked out, her bare feet leaving quiet prints on the tiles.

The door hadn't even shut behind her completely before it opened again.

Alessia looked up—

And froze.

It was him.

Vincenzo.

Standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.