Alexander Blackwood was a man of few words, his demeanor perpetually icy and detached.

In the five years Eleanor had worked for him, she had never once witnessed him lose his composure.

But now, standing before his commanding presence—a man accustomed to absolute authority—Eleanor felt the weight of his intimidation settle over her like a suffocating cloak.

Yet, the injustice toward Amy Sinclair gnawed at her. The woman had poured her heart into her work for years, only to receive no acknowledgment.

"That's not the case, sir," Eleanor explained carefully. "Mrs. Sinclair mentioned that you and Liam have delicate stomachs. You can't just eat anything—your meals require special preparation."

"Some of these dishes take over two hours just to simmer the ingredients. The process is meticulous. Mrs. Sinclair even studied holistic medicine on her own to perfect them."

Special meals? Alexander's expression flickered with realization. No wonder his chronic stomach issues had remained dormant for so long.

Eleanor pressed on. "Later, when both you and Liam's health improved, Mrs. Sinclair finally had a chance to rest."

"But then..." She hesitated, glancing at Alexander before murmuring, "One day, when Mrs. Sinclair brought your meal, Ms. Langley happened to be suffering from low blood sugar, so you gave her the portion meant for you."

"Ms. Langley adored it. After speaking with Mrs. Sinclair, she learned these were specially prepared meals and mentioned her doctor had recommended similar dietary adjustments. She praised Mrs. Sinclair's cooking."

"And then you said since Mrs. Sinclair was already cooking for you and Liam, adding one more person wouldn't be an issue."

"Mrs. Sinclair pointed out that Ms. Langley's tastes might differ from yours and Liam's."

"But you and Liam insisted that whatever Ms. Langley wanted should be included in the menu, and that she could send her requests to me and Mrs. Sinclair."

"I would handle the shopping, and Mrs. Sinclair would do the cooking."

As Eleanor finished, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and handed it to Alexander. "Look, Ms. Langley just sent her menu."

Alexander skimmed the screen—a group chat with three participants: Victoria, Eleanor, and Amy. Most of the messages were from Victoria.

[Today, I'm craving a three-course meal,] Victoria had typed, followed by an exhaustive list of dishes that scrolled endlessly.

Before Alexander could finish reading, Eleanor snatched the phone back and replied, [Understood.]

Alexander frowned at her abruptness.

Eleanor exhaled. "Last time, I was cleaning and didn't respond immediately. At lunch, Ms. Langley acted deeply wounded and refused to eat."

"She later collapsed from low blood sugar and was rushed to the hospital. When she woke up, she declared she was on death's door and that any effort to help would be futile, so Mrs. Sinclair shouldn't bother."

"You were furious with Mrs. Sinclair, accusing her of neglecting Ms. Langley. No matter how much I explained, neither you nor Ms. Langley believed me."

As she spoke, Eleanor untied her apron. "Sir, you and Liam might have to settle for a simple breakfast today. I need to shop for groceries. If I'm late, the produce won't be fresh, and Ms. Langley might accuse Mrs. Sinclair of deliberately serving her spoiled food—claiming she's trying to poison her."

And then, you'll hear all about it. Eleanor bit back the words.

Just then, another message lit up the group chat.

Eleanor froze mid-step.