The scent of freshly brewed coffee and buttered toast filled the kitchen as Ella moved gracefully around, humming softly to herself.
The morning light spilled through the wide windows, casting a warm glow on the elegant marble countertops.
Everything was perfect.
Just the way she wanted it.
She glanced over at Marco, who sat at the dining table, rubbing his temples, his expression tense.
His jaw was tight, his brows furrowed, his fingers pressing against his forehead as if he were trying to chase away an unbearable headache.
The empire he had spent years building and protecting was falling apart.
And he was exhausted. “Good morning, Mr. Venetti,” Ella said sweetly, placing a fresh cup of coffee in front of him.
Marco barely looked up. “Morning,” he muttered.
Matteo sat beside him, happily munching on toast, his little feet kicking under the table.
“Nanny makes the best breakfast!” Matteo grinned, looking up at Ella with adoring eyes.
Ella’s lips curved into a soft smile as she gently ruffled his curls.
“I’m glad you think so, sweetheart,” she murmured.
Marco let out a deep sigh, pushing his fingers through his hair.
Ella’s sharp eyes noticed the way his shoulders sagged, the way dark circles clung to his eyes.
He was worn out. And that? That was exactly what she wanted. “Mr. Venetti,” she said softly, stepping behind him. “You look tense.”
Marco exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “That obvious?” he muttered. Ella chuckled lightly, her voice soothing, motherly.
“You carry too much on your shoulders,” she said, placing her hands gently on his temples. He didn’t pull away.
Didn’t resist. She began to massage his head gently, her fingers working through his tension, her touch light but firm.
Marco let out a soft, tired sigh, his body finally relaxing under her touch. “You should let yourself rest,” Ella murmured, her voice almost hypnotic.
Marco closed his eyes, exhaling deeply.
“I can’t,” he muttered.
Ella tilted her head, feigning curiosity.
“What’s troubling you?” she asked softly.
Marco let out a low, bitter chuckle.
“What isn’t?” he muttered.
Ella continued to massage his temples, her fingers moving slowly, carefully.
“Tell me,” she said gently.
Marco hesitated for a moment, then—he spoke.
“Everything is falling apart,” he admitted, his voice lower, strained.
“I spent years building this empire. I thought I was untouchable. But lately—lately, it’s like the walls are closing in. Every deal collapses. Every shipment gets intercepted. Every ally I have is either turning on me or disappearing.”
Ella nodded slowly, listening intently, her fingers still working through his tension.
“You work too hard,” she murmured.
Marco let out another weary breath, his head tilting back slightly.
“I don’t have a choice,” he muttered. “I had to find the traitor. I had to stop the leaks before everything crumbled.”
He let out a low laugh, shaking his head.
“And now that I finally found out who it was—” He paused.
Ella’s hands stilled for just a fraction of a second.
“Carmen,” he murmured. Ella’s lips curled slightly. “It must be such a relief,” she said softly.
Marco let out a humorless chuckle. “You’d think so,” he muttered.
Ella tilted her head, feigning confusion. “You don’t believe it?”
Marco let out a slow, deep sigh, rubbing his forehead.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “The pictures, the emails, the evidence—it all makes sense.”
His jaw tightened.
“And yet…”
Ella’s eyes darkened slightly.
“Yet what?” she asked carefully.
Marco frowned, his fingers drumming against the table.
“Something still feels wrong,” he muttered. “Like I’m missing something.”
Ella forced herself to stay calm. Marco was a dangerous man. Intelligent. Sharp. And even though she had orchestrated everything perfectly—
He still felt it. That small, lingering doubt. She needed to snuff it out before it grew.
“You’re tired,” she said soothingly, resuming the massage. “You’ve been under too much stress. It’s natural to second-guess things.”
Marco sighed heavily, leaning into her touch.
“Maybe,” he muttered.
Ella’s lips curved slightly.
“Besides,” she continued, her voice soft, convincing, “you saw the proof with your own eyes. Carmen betrayed you.”
Marco’s jaw clenched. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice hollow.
Ella hid her smirk. Marco was right where she wanted him. Vulnerable. Distracted.
And Matteo? Matteo was already hers.
She looked down at the little boy, who was still eating happily, unaware of the war being fought around him.
“Nanny?” Matteo looked up, his mouth full of toast.
Ella smiled warmly. “Yes, sweetheart?” she asked.
“Can we go to the park later?” he asked, his eyes hopeful.
Ella glanced at Marco, who waved a tired hand.
“If Nanny says yes, then yes,” he muttered.
Ella beamed. “Of course, my love,” she murmured.