---- Chapter 75 Stella's gentle tone held a quiet sharpness, the kind of softness that could cut deeper than harsher words. Tara finished her meal and wiped her mouth with a napkin. "That day, anyone in pain would have received the same kindness from me. Your identity was irrelevant." Stella sat frozen, her expression stunned. Even after Tara left the room, her shock lingered. She hadn't expected her attempt to reconcile to fall flat, let alone receive such a blunt response.

The change in Tara was something Stella struggled to understand. Meanwhile , Tara went about her duties. After dropping off her tray at the kitchen's cleaning area, she hurried upstairs to collect the used dinnerware. When she entered Soren's room, his gaze immediately locked onto her, burning with intensity as he watched her every move. Lounging lazily on the couch, he broke the silence. "What size do you wear for tops, bottoms, and shoes?" Tara paused, puzzled by the unexpected question.

"Why are you asking, Mr. Farrell?" Soren clicked his tongue in mild irritation. "Tsk, forget it. I'll just ask Russell instead." ---- Tara's uniform and shoe sizes were likely on file. Her heart sank at the idea of Russell being involved. Panicking , she rushed to Soren's side and snatched the phone from his hands. + Flustered , her voice trembled as she said, 'D-Don't ask Mr. Robertson. Just ask me.

I'll tell you." The thought of Russell misunderstanding the situation was enough to send her into a frenzy. After all, what kind of man would randomly ask about a woman's clothing sizes? Soren remained relaxed, his posture casual yet commanding as he smirked. His amusement was unmistakable . "Why? Are you worried Russell might get the wrong idea about us?" Tara didn't dare answer him. She couldn't read him at all. "T need this job," she explained quickly. "And I'm required to follow the rules.

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Otherwise, I'd have to pay a penalty fee." Soren's indifference to her plight was apparent. He shrugged off her concern easily. "I'll pay you ten times the penalty." His casual offer left her momentarily speechless. When she finally regained her composure, she countered firmly, ---- "T don't think our relationship is close enough for that, Mr. Farrell." Soren chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischievous intent.

"Tara, do you really think you can run away from me?" 3 Though his tone lacked any overt menace, it sent a chill down her spine. Forcing herself to remain steady, she murmured, "I..." Soren seemed to sense her unease and softened his approach slightly. "Just tell me, what sizes do you wear?" Instead of answering directly , Tara asked cautiously , " Why do you want my sizes, Mr. Farrell?" His gaze swept over her. "Your outfit looks pitiful.

I'll buy you a carload of better ones." Tara's breath hitched at his words, knowing full well he wasn't joking. "No, no, I have plenty of clothes and shoes already," she said hurriedly. "Besides, I'm always at the villa. I don't have the chance to wear anything else." Afraid that he would actually follow through, Tara quickly returned his phone to the coffee table and wasted no time pushing the cart out of his room. Soren watched her leave and let out a small laugh.

Tara was such a stubborn woman. 2 ---- Distracted by the encounter, Tara moved absentmindedly to Shawn's room. She cleared away the used dishes with practiced efficiency, intent on finishing her rounds. As she prepared to leave, Shawn adjusted his glasses calmly and looked at her. "Is something on your mind?" he asked.