My contract love story

The third week came, and each day was closer to the exam and tightening Ashleigh’s already packed schedule. Studying consumed her every waking moment, bleeding into her work responsibilities. The tension was palpable, and Mrs. Smith, recognizing the strain, granted Ashleigh a leave of absence until the exam was over. The house became her study haven, broken only by quick meals and fleeting chats with Chef Larry and the other staff. Even those brief moments of respite began to feel like stolen time.

During the week, a message from Mr. Turner arrived, detailing registration procedures for the exam which spanned the first three days of the fourth week. With registration complete, Ashleigh threw herself into a study frenzy. Days blurred into an endless loop of textbooks, notes, and practice questions. Sleep was a luxury she barely afforded, fueled by a relentless blend of coffee and determination. Susan’s pleas for breaks fell on deaf ears; there simply wasn’t a minute to waste.

On the fourth day, Ashleigh descended the stairs, study materials clutched in her arms, only to find Mr. Atkinson waiting, his face etched with concern. Beside him stood Susan, a similar furrow etched on her brow. Mr. Atkinson’s usual demeanor was replaced by an unsettling withdrawal, a feeling of foreboding churning in Ashleigh’s stomach.

“Mrs. Cagliari,” he began, his voice devoid of its usual warmth, “Mr. Turner just informed me that Mr. Cagliari will be returning home unexpectedly next weekend.”

Ashleigh’s carefully constructed study schedule crumpled under the weight of Adrian’s early return. But a deeper worry flickered to life within her. The surprise visit, coupled with the tense atmosphere, hinted at something more than a simple schedule disruption.

“Is there anything I need to prepare?” she asked, her voice laced with caution.

Mr. Atkinson hesitated, then shook his head. “Well, Mr. Cagliari has requested that you begin preparing the monthly reports. He intends to review them upon his return,” he informed her.

Ashleigh nodded, understanding settling in its place. Mr. Atkinson paused, then spoke again, his voice laced with concern.

“However, Mrs. Cagliari, I would advise you to…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering with a silent plea.

“Advise me what, Mr. Atkinson?” Ashleigh pressed, a sliver of apprehension creeping into her voice.

Mr. Atkinson’s words hung heavy in the air. “Perhaps it would be best to refrain from any… unnecessary activities until Mr. Cagliari returns,” he finished delicately.

Ashleigh’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Unnecessary activities?”

The meaning struck her, a wave of defiance washing over her. The karaoke night, held over the weekend, had been a success, a welcome reprieve from the relentless studying. Why would Adrian object?

Ashleigh’s brows furrowed in confusion. Sensing her bewilderment, Mr. Atkinson cleared his throat.

“Mr. Cagliari prefers a certain decorum in the household, Mrs. Cagliari. Perhaps it’s best to avoid activities that might be misconstrued as unprofessional.”

His words stung. Ashleigh had strived to build rapport with the staff, fostering a more relaxed and positive environment. Was that wrong? Frustration simmered within her.

“Thank you for the update, Mr. Atkinson,” she replied curtly, her voice tight with suppressed anger.

“I’ll keep Mr. Cagliari’s preferences in mind.”

She retreated to her room, her heart heavy. The joy of the previous weekend vanished, replaced by simmering resentment towards Adrian’s controlling nature. She had the right to manage the household as she saw fit, and his disapproval felt like a suffocating attempt to control her. Meanwhile, news of Adrian’s unexpected arrival rippled through the staff, stirring concern. Chef Larry, catching wind of it, approached Susan with a worried expression.

“What’s wrong, Susan? Mrs. Cagliari seems upset.”

Susan hesitated. “Mr. Atkinson just informed Mrs. Ashleigh that Mr. Cagliari is returning early, and it seems her recent actions haven’t met with his approval.”This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Larry frowned. This earlier arrival might be due to information that reached Adrian. He sighed, needing a new strategy. But first, he needed to understand the reason for the early return.

“What kind of actions?” he pressed gently. After some deliberation, Susan decided to share what Mr. Atkinson had revealed.

“The karaoke night, for one. Mr. Atkinson mentioned that Mr. Cagliari prefers a more formal atmosphere in the house. He also wasn’t thrilled about my employment, from what I heard,” she said nervously.

Larry sighed in relief. This meant Adrian wasn’t aware of anything specific about him.

Susan, grabbing his hand anxiously, blurted out, “Do you think I’ll be fired when Mr. Cagliari comes home?”

“I can’t say for sure,” Larry admitted.

“This will be my first meeting with him too. But Mrs. Ashleigh seems like someone who won’t give in easily.” He offered reassurance, calming the worried teenager.

“Mrs. Ashleigh was upset,” Susan mentioned, turning to leave. “I should go check on her.”

After she left, Larry’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold glint in his eyes. A new determination hardened his features. Ashleigh retreated to her room, a storm of emotions churning within her. Adrian hadn’t bothered to speak to her since the

Tara incident, offering no support for her exams. Now, he announces his unexpected return and disapproval of her management style, his ignorance grating on her nerves. Yet, stewing wouldn’t help her situation. Priorities first. She settled back to studying, the rhythmic scratch of her pen the only sound in the room.

A soft rap on the door startled her. Susan peeked in, her youthful face etched with concern. “Is everything alright, Mrs. Cagliari? You seemed upset earlier.”

Ashleigh forced a smile. “It’s nothing, Susan. Just some exam stress. Actually, I have a task for you. Could you start compiling an inventory report? Gather information from the department heads about current stock levels and what needs replenishing.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Susan replied, her eyes lingering on Ashleigh’s drawn face.

The following days fell into a relentless routine. Ashleigh became a prisoner of her studies, confined to her room. Meals and necessities were delivered discreetly by Mr. Atkinson or Susan. The intense focus began to take its toll. By the weekend, Ashleigh felt a familiar ache in her throat, her usual voracious appetite dwindling. A feverish heat radiated from her skin.

Taking a break felt like a luxury she couldn’t afford, especially with Adrian’s return looming. Pushing through the fatigue, she focused on refining the inventory report. Susan, ever watchful of her Madame, had noticed the subtle changes the pallor that replaced Ashleigh’s usual vibrancy, the way her meals remained untouched. Her concerns were brushed aside with assurances that it was just a passing cold. Yet, witnessing Ashleigh on that weekend, Susan knew it was far more serious.

“Madame, please,” Susan pleaded, her voice trembling. “We need to call a doctor. You’re not getting any better.”

Ashleigh waved a dismissive hand, her voice raspy. “No need for that, Susan. I just wanted to check on your progress with the report.” It was a feeble attempt to deflect attention. Witnessing her employer’s stubbornness, Susan complied but harbored a silent resolve to inform Mr. Atkinson. Hours bled into one another as Ashleigh meticulously reviewed the inventory data. Exhaustion gnawed at her, her eyelids growing heavy. With a sigh, she dismissed Susan and collapsed onto the bed, her body and mind finally succumbing to their demands. For the first time in days, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

Sunday morning arrived, devoid of Ashleigh’s usual morning bustle. Susan, worried by the silence, peeked into the room and found her Madame in a state far worse than the previous day.

Panic surged through her. She frantically dialed Mr. Atkinson’s number, requesting a doctor. Receiving no immediate response, she raced downstairs, tears blurring her vision, determined to find the butlers.

At that precise moment, Mr. Atkinson was welcoming Mr. Cagliari and Mr. Turner, who had just emerged from their car. Susan, tears streaming down her face, burst into the scene.

“Mr. Atkinson, please! Call a doctor! Mrs. Cagliari is unconscious!” Her voice echoed through the hallway, shattering the calm arrival.