Chapter 7 ( Steven's POV ) 711 55 vouchers I woke up to the scent of something so good , so unholy , that for a split second , I thought I'd died . It wasn't espresso . It wasn't avocado toast . It was ... divine . Warm . Sweet . Garlicky . Meaty . Tangy . Slightly smoky . I blinked against the morning light , eyes squinting as my brain slowly booted up . For the first time in what felt like months , I didn't wake up in pain or drenched in existential rage . No nightmares . No twisted muscles . Just ... food . And not just any food . I knew this smell . Asia . Manila . Four years ago . Post - race celebration . My team's head mechanic , Raffy , dragged me to a small hole - in - the- wall restaurant - bare plastic chairs , humid air , no AC - and fed me a breakfast that made me forget I was a spoiled rich boy for exactly twelve minutes . Garlic rice . Marinated beef . Sweet sausages . Fried fish . Mangoes . Egg yolk that oozed like melted gold . It was heaven . Pure , edible heaven . The kind of food that clung to your memory like perfume . And now ? It was in my kitchen . I sat up , confused . Groggy . My first thought was : Did Jeeves cook ? Our family's old , loyal butler - slash - ninja - operator . Did he suddenly master Filipino cuisine overnight ? But no . Jeeves would never fry anything . He was a boiled - egg - and - light - toast kind of man . He thought " adobo " was a type of Italian leather . Which left only one possibility . Her . Madison . I groaned , dragging a hand down my face , already hearing the sass before I even rolled to the door . Chapter 7 She'd been here less than 24 hours and she was already taking over my kitchen , like she didn't know I had chefs who graduated from culinary academies in Paris . And yet- That smell ... It was better than anything they ever made . I wheeled out of my room , grumbling , shirtless , my sweatpants hanging low on my hips , my hair doing something ridiculous because I did not care . I turned the corner into the kitchen- And there she was . Madison Luis . Tiny terror . Sass gremlin . Full - on domestic goddess . Hair in a bun . Singing - singing - some old OPM ballad while flipping longganisa like she was born in a breakfast - themed telenovela . She didn't even see me at first . She was too busy arranging a plate with garlic rice , egg , tapa , mango slices , and something brown and sticky and beautiful I didn't even know the name of . She was dancing . In my kitchen . And laughing . And glowing . And my stomach growled so loud , she turned . " Wow , " she said , one brow raised , " you look like a hungover Greek god ." I ignored that . " What ... what is that smell ? " She grinned . " It's called breakfast , your highness . Real food . Made by real hands . No foam . No microgreens . Just carbs , meat , and love . " I glanced toward the stove . " Did Jeeves approve of this? " " Does it look like I need his permission ? " " I thought you were my assistant ." " I am . That's why I'm assisting your taste buds today . " I opened my mouth to argue , but then she walked past me , her plate in one hand , the other brushing against my arm as she passed - and the smell hit me all over again . My stomach rumbled . Louder . Embarrassingly loud . She paused . Smirked . Looked me up and down like I was the child and she was the tired mom who already won . " I made you a plate , " she said , sliding another one from the counter . " But if you're going to complain again , I'll eat both . Just sayin " ." Chapter 7 I stared at the food . Then at her . Then back at the food . And for the first time in months ... I didn't feel rage . Or shame . Or emptiness . I felt hungry . I reached for the plate . Madison just smiled and turned on the kettle . " Coffee coming up , " she said over her shoulder , " but if you sass me again before 9 a.m. , I swear I'll replace your rice with kale for a week . " God help me- I almost smiled . I stared at the plate like it might explode . It didn't . It just sat there - innocent , warm , delicious , real . A fried egg smiled up at me , yolk glowing like a sunrise . The garlic rice shimmered with crispy bits . And the meat ? It looked like it had been blessed by a holy flame . I took a bite . And then I saw God . Okay - not literally . But damn . It was good . My fork hesitated in the air for a second , because it felt ... wrong . Not the food . The food was heavenly . What felt wrong was the way it cracked something in me . Because for the first time in forever , I wasn't thinking about what I lost . Not the accident . Not the chair . Not the racing career that died in Dubai . Not even the chef I might've accidentally screamed at for serving overcooked duck . Right now ? I was just a guy , in a kitchen , eating breakfast . And enjoying it . Meanwhile , she moved around like she ran the whole penthouse . Madison placed a mug of coffee beside me with a loud clink , like she was declaring victory . " Here . Fresh . No gold flakes . No overpriced beans . Just honest coffee . You're welcome . " I sipped it cautiously . Bold . Smooth . Slightly sweet . She added just enough milk . The kind of balance no one ever got right . " I didn't ask for sugar , " I muttered , just because being agreeable would shatter the natural order . " You didn't ask for flavor either , " she shot back , plopping down in the seat across from me with her own plate . " Yet here we are . A man and a miracle breakfast . " I eyed her . " You're very smug this morning ." Chapter 7 55 vouchers " I slept on a mattress that feels like a thousand baby angels weaved it with unicorn hair . Of course I'm smug . " " You're not afraid of me , are you ? " She snorted . " Of you ? Please . I survived my landlord trying to sell my apartment to crypto bros mid - lease . I've eaten week - old leftovers with a straight face . You think you scare me because you own the building ? " " I also have lawyers ." " I have screenshots of your angry texts to your chef about foie gras trauma . We're even . " I chewed silently , not sure if I was more impressed or offended . She really wasn't like anyone else I'd met . No fear . No boot - licking . No fragile egos wrapped in designer desperation . Just ... Madison . And somehow , that made this penthouse feel less like a prison and more like a home for the first time since the crash . She stood up , collected our plates like she was in her own apartment , and winked . " Now that you're full , it's time for PT . No excuses . Don't make me chase you with a banana again . " I groaned , dragging my hand down my face . " Can't we have one morning where I'm not tortured by resistance bands ? " " Nope . " She tossed a towel at me . " Time to suffer , McLeon . Let's go . " As she walked off - bright , bossy , barefoot - I stared after her for a beat longer than I should have . Because somehow , despite all logic , she made this ridiculous , broken version of my life feel like something I hadn't felt in a long , long time . Possible . And worse ? She made me feel like maybe I wasn't as broken as I thought . Madison POV The next morning started like every morning with Steven Freaking McLeon : Loud . Petty . And caffeinated . We argued about everything . Whether or not leg lifts counted if he grunted dramatically after each one . Whether the new Netflix series was genius or absolute trash ( it was trash , and he was wrong ) . Whether oatmeal was " an insult to breakfast , " or just " a warm hug in a bowl . " 11:26 Thu , Sep 18 Chapter 7 And yes , the socks he left behind the yoga mat like he was shedding skin . " You live here , " I snapped at him . " You don't need to mark your territory with left socks ! " " They're compression socks . They're working . " " At being gross ? " " I'm a patient , not a house elf ! " Typical . After that , we hit a temporary ceasefire because I bribed him with fried rice and mangoes again . But peace was a lie . 71 55 vouchers Because that afternoon , I had an incident . A horrifying , humiliating , drenched - in - regret incident . It started when I noticed the kitchen faucet leaking . Just a little drip . Innocent . Harmless . So naturally , like any overly confident woman raised by Google and bad decisions , I rolled up the sleeves of my extra - large white T - shirt , barefoot and determined . " I got this , " I muttered . Spoiler : I did not got this . I yanked the handle a little harder - maybe a lot harder - and then the faucet exploded like it had been storing rage since 1997 . Water . EVERYWHERE . A violent , screaming geyser of betrayal . It hit the counter . The floor . My face . And then , my shirt . Which was white . And now see - through . With nothing underneath but a very red , very lacy bra that I definitely forgot I was wearing because laundry day snuck up on me like a debt collector . " OH MY GOD ! " I shrieked , slipping on the now lake - like tiles as I scrambled to grab a towel , a pot , anything . " Why ?! WHY ?! " The faucet mocked me like a devil possessed . My entire front was soaked . My hair stuck to my cheeks . My shirt clung like it had dreams of modeling for a soap commercial . And then- 11:26 Thu , Sep 18 Chapter 7 Enter the Devil Prince himself . : Steven rolled in at full speed , the motor of his upgraded chair humming like danger . 71 55 vouchers He stopped dead at the edge of the kitchen , eyes wide , mouth slightly open , like his entire operating system froze . " What the hell happened- " Then he saw me . And suddenly , the only thing more flooding than the floor ... was his gaze . My soaked white shirt . The red lace . My legs . My face , flushed with panic and pure embarrassment . I was standing there , drenched , clutching a dishtowel and a ladle like they were weapons of war . He blinked slowly , eyes dragging up and down my body like I was some kind of soggy goddess fallen from heaven's plumbing system . " I ... uh ... " I stammered . " The ... the faucet ... it , um - attacked me ? " Ħ