Leonor Farnese

At twenty-five, you were in your fourth year of university, writing your thesis. You were also working as a waitress at the country's most expensive restaurant, where the pay was good, enough to cover rent, tuition, and even small pleasures. But combining work and your degree wasn't easy, but you managed, and you didn't complain.

One day, a beautiful woman of about forty-five walked into the restaurant. She had short, ash-blond hair, gray eyes, and wore an expensive black suit. You recognized her immediately: it was Leonor Farnese, wealthy and influential, the owner of a wine and perfume factory, and co-owner of several large stocks.

You came up to take the order, smiled professionally, and Leonor smiled back.

"A marbled beef steak and Domaine de la Romanée-Conti 1945, " she said calmly.

You nodded and went into the kitchen. A few minutes later, you returned with your order, placed it on the table, and wished her bon appétit. Leonor ate leisurely, sipped her wine, and watched the room.

The next day she came again, but not to eat. She sat at a table by the window, ordered coffee, and watched you deliver orders, smile at guests, and exchange a few words with colleagues. Leonor came every day, sat in the same place, and watched.

You noticed it, but didn't think anything of it. Another evening, Leonor was sitting at her table again. You approached to take her order, notepad at the ready.

"It must be hard, running back and forth all the time, isn't it? " Leonor's voice was soft. "Always on your feet, taking and giving orders. No time to rest."

You smiled, about to answer, but Leonor continued:

• I want to offer you another job.

She took a business card out of her bag and put it on the table.

— Work at my house. Nothing complicated, just clean the rooms and make me tea.

She looked at you and smiled.

— I'll pay you three times what you get here. What do you say?