Anastasia stood in front of the dining table, frozen.
The breakfast was still warm, steam rising gently off the eggs and toast. It looked… perfect. But her mind was far from calm.
'Mason made this? For me? Or is this some kind of game?' she thought, her fingers twitching by her sides.
Then a darker thought crossed her mind.
'What if he poisoned it?'
She bit her lip, immediately shaking her head. 'No… No, he wouldn't do that. Would he?'
She was still standing there, lost in her tangled thoughts, when the older maid approached her gently.
The woman looked to be in her late fifties, with soft lines on her face that told of years of quiet service.
"Ma'am…" the maid said softly. "May I speak to you freely?"
Anastasia blinked and slowly turned to face her. Her voice came out low. "Yes… You can speak."
The maid folded her hands in front of her. Her voice was steady, calm.
"Mr. Harrington… he's someone who has gone through a lot. A lot more than people know.
