Resignation

Fernando's POV

As I knotted my tie, a knock came on the door.

"Is that you, Clara?" I asked, as if I was expecting someone else

"It's Clara, sir," The person affirmed. "I wanted to tell you that breakfast is ready."

"Okay, I will be done in a few." I said.

Afterward, I heard the sound of her feet padding away.

Clara was a middle-aged woman who I had hired as my private chef upon my arrival in Australia.

The penthouse I had bought to reside in throughout my stay in Australia wasn't as large as my mansion in New York, although it was quite spacious.

It had four bedrooms, six bathrooms, a living room, a private gym, a TV room, and three kitchens.

I hadn't hired a maid or a butler because I wanted to navigate life on my own.

Mother had spoiled me too much since I was born; I had been too accustomed to having people at my beck and call all the time.

It was time I knew how to figure stuff out on my own.

But because I didn't have the slightest idea of how cooking worked, I had hired Clara.

F