Page 45 of The Call She Made That He Never Answered
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.
