Or maybe Ella wasn't that good an actress, which confirmed my earlier feeling: I'd paid too little attention to Ella lately.
An unprecedented sense of defeat pierced through me.
In that moment, I finally understood clearly: Ella wasn't acting impulsively, wasn't playing hard to get. She genuinely didn't want me anymore.
Because I'd returned, work that had been delegated flooded back to my desk like a tide. Every document waited for my signature and decisions, but I couldn't focus on anything.
Soon, people at the company noticed something was wrong. Those entering and leaving my office avoided eye contact. Reports became unprecedentedly brief. The usual chatter from the break room vanished.
The atmosphere across the executive floor became a powder keg ready to explode. Everyone kept their distance.
Late that night, I slept in the lounge at the company.
Over the past six months, I'd spent more than half my time sleeping here. Ironically, before, though my body slept here, my heart was at the manor. I knew a light would always be on there. The lounge only relaxed my body—it couldn't shelter my soul.
But now, with Ella gone, my soul had nowhere to go. Without Ella, I was homeless wherever I went.
This loss of control left me both furious and bewildered.
The chain reaction after Ella's departure hit harder than I'd expected.
The manor's operations nearly ground to a halt. Mrs. Hughes was completely lost with the complex electronic purchasing systems and smart appliances. Then, a dozen charity organizations called with inquiries. All the monthly donations Ella had single-handedly managed had lost contact.
I sat at my desk, realizing for the first time that all the intricate details keeping this family's respectable operations running had rested on Ella's fingertips alone. The realization made me unbearably restless.
That's when Vivian walked into the lounge. She carried coffee, her expression as efficient as always.
"Lucas, sorry, I just heard your call. The manor needs help?" She set down the coffee, gently suggesting, "Since you can't get away, why don't I go handle it? You know management and communication are my strengths. I can straighten things out there first."
I rubbed my throbbing temples, looking at this assistant who'd never made a business mistake. Vivian possessed extraordinary business capabilities. She'd been to the manor a few times and was familiar with the environment and people there. If she could handle unpredictable work with ease, these simple household matters should be even easier.
If I could get just anyone to handle those domestic trivialities, then when Ella came back, would she realize her little disappearing act was childish?
"Fine," I exhaled with relief. "I'd appreciate you handling it."
The first day Vivian went to the manor, I got a call from the family doctor.
"Mr. Lucas!" The doctor's voice was nearly distorted with anger. "Why did you send Miss Vivian to the manor?"
"What happened?" An ominous feeling washed over me.
"She has no idea what she's doing!" The doctor's complaint came rapidly. "She walked in, trying to take over everything, nitpicking the afternoon tea Mrs. Hughes prepared, insisting on restructuring the process to match five-star hotel standards. Mrs. Hughes has worked here for thirty years, and now she's being criticized as 'unprofessional.' The poor woman's too upset to speak."
My grip on the phone tightened.
"Worse, she was late giving Mr. Rockefeller his medication by half an hour because she was handling an urgent email. When I reminded her, she thought I was overreacting—a few minutes wouldn't matter. And she volunteered to help with Mr. Rockefeller's leg therapy, but she wore three layers of medical gloves and sprayed disinfectant every two presses. That disgust hiding behind polite courtesy—even I saw it, let alone Mr. Rockefeller with his pride."
"Did you throw her out?" I'd already anticipated Grandfather's rage.
"What else, sir? Mr. Rockefeller couldn't tolerate that woman. He smashed all the therapy equipment she brought! But after she left, the old man's face turned ashen, his blood pressure spiked to 180! It took me half an hour to stabilize him!"
I heard the doctor's heavy breathing.
"Mr. Lucas, forgive my bluntness. That woman thinks Mrs. Rockefeller became your wife by pleasing old Mr. Rockefeller. She thinks she can do the same. Her motives are impure, sir. You should minimize contact with her."
I slumped back in my chair, rubbing my temples hard, feeling the nerves in my brain ready to explode.
I must be insane.
