In the days that followed, Ella tried to adjust to her new life inside the mansion.
Don Armando was quiet and composed, always watching her with calm, unreadable eyes. He treated her gently, yet there was something odd—something that didn’t fit the image of an aging man.
One evening, as they dined together, Ella noticed the way he held his wine glass. His hands were clean and smooth, his grip strong and steady—nothing like the hands of an elderly man.
“Don Armando,” she asked cautiously, “how old are you again?”
He chuckled softly, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile.
“Old enough to understand what truly matters in a person,” he replied.
His answer lingered in her mind, mysterious and unsettling.
A few days later, the house steward approached her and said quietly, “Ma’am, don’t be surprised if you find some things strange about our boss. Everything he does… there’s always a reason.”
