Chapter 12 #2
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.
To think someone like Vivian, accustomed to spotlights, polished to every hair strand, could match half of Ella's patience.
How could she possibly be like Ella, who spent two hours daily with Grandfather doing rehabilitation exercises, never complaining, never tired? Day after day, year after year...
Only then did I realize how different Ella was.
She possessed boundless gentleness, a heart pure without a trace of impurity. She cared nothing for material things, only genuinely caring for everyone around her.
I suddenly understood why Grandfather had insisted I marry her.
Countless women in this world could share my wealth, but only one truly loved me and my family wholeheartedly—Ella.
Only her.
But Ella was gone now.
Late at night, I dragged my exhausted body back to the manor.
I'd been avoiding it for nearly a week. During that week, everything spiraled out of control like a derailed train. Not until today, when Vivian caused a disaster, could I no longer hide at the office, pretending problems didn't exist if I didn't come back. I had to check on Grandfather.
All the lights were off, the entire manor submerged in deathly silence. Only Grandfather's study window glowed, like a solitary eye watching me through the darkness.
I went upstairs and pushed open Grandfather's door.
Grandfather sat in his wheelchair, back to me, facing the pitch-black night outside. He didn't seem surprised by the noise I made. He didn't even turn around.
"Lucas," his voice carried an unfamiliar calm, "I need to tell you something."
I walked over and sat on the sofa beside him. Grandfather looked paler than last time, eyes sunken, his whole frame much thinner.
"Except for Ella, I won't allow any woman into this manor." He looked at me, his eyes holding no anger, no accusation—only deep exhaustion and disappointment. "No woman at all."
My stomach dropped. That disappointment hurt worse than anger.
"Grandfather—"
"Only Ella." He cut me off, his voice heavier. "Only she's qualified to be the lady of the Rockefeller family. If she doesn't come back, as long as I'm alive, that position remains hers."
He paused, eyes boring into mine, "Do you understand?"
I stood abruptly, wanting to say something, but meeting Grandfather's weary gaze, all words stuck in my throat. Finally, I just nodded silently and left.
My heart felt lost and empty. Walking alone through the hollow corridor, passing servants who bowed perfunctorily before hurrying away, their courtesy intact but coldness obvious. I thought of the gatekeeper I'd seen tonight, Mrs. Hughes—all of them treated me coldly.
I could feel it. They were all silently accusing me. Just like my grandfather.
Accusing me of failing to keep Ella.
That feeling of being ostracized by everyone made me angry, and also strangely panicked. I was supposed to be the master of this house—why did Ella's departure make me the villain?
The once orderly, warm Rockefeller Manor had vanished, replaced by a lifeless mausoleum.
I couldn't find the courage to enter the bedroom that once belonged to Ella and me. I could only retreat pathetically to the study, burying myself in data and reports like countless nights this week, trying to numb myself with work, avoiding any more thoughts about Ella's details.
But what appeared on the computer screen was this week's work—repeatedly revised, with zero progress. Looking at the messy spreadsheets, I had to admit my work performance this week had been absolutely abysmal.
I'd never been this pathetic in my life. This loss of control tortured my nerves, made me angry even at myself.
I'd almost never bowed to anyone, but in that moment, I was defeated. The realization that "I can't do this without her" slapped me across the face. I had to admit I just wanted Ella's forgiveness. Whatever her reason for leaving, if she'd just come back, I could meet any demand she made.
I tossed aside the phone she'd blocked, pulling out another new phone from my briefcase: I, Lucas Rockefeller, was blocked by a woman for the first time in my life, and now I'd shamelessly persist. Even though a voice inside screamed how humiliating this behavior was, I didn't care anymore.
I took a deep breath and dialed, key by key, the number I knew by heart.