Morning Chaos Without Her

Sleep completely eluded Damon through the night. Getting out of bed the next morning, his gaze grew cold the second it landed on the bedroom sofa. Every other day, a freshly pressed outfit waited there in a neat stack. This morning, the cushions were entirely bare.

For years, Evelyn had quietly handled every minor detail of his routine. Now that she had abruptly vanished, the household staff had no clue about his personal preferences. Left guessing what he wanted to wear, someone had simply grabbed a random suit from the closet and rushed an iron over it.

Looking at the outfit the housekeeper, Martha, held out toward him, Damon drew his brows together in a deep frown. "Bring me the black one."

"Mr. Voss, I really don't know which specific black suit you're referring to. Let me go check the wardrobe right now," Martha replied, her voice tight with nerves.

Irritated by her flustered tone, Damon yanked the hanger straight out of her grip and turned his back to put the clothes on himself.

Sensing his temper rising by the second, Martha stared at the floor and kept her mouth shut. She barely dared to draw a full breath. Once she finally survived his string of complaints about the wardrobe, she rushed out of the master suite to check on Lucas.

The boy's allergic outbreak from the night before had been severe, and the red welts still hadn't faded by daybreak. Miserable from the constant itching, Lucas began to sob loudly. "Evelyn, what is wrong with you today? Why aren't you in here making this itch stop?"

"You gave me your word! You told me nothing would ever hurt me as long as you stayed around. You're a liar! Just a huge liar!" Sitting upright in bed, Lucas kept his eyelids squeezed shut and swung his fists wildly at whoever stood near the mattress.

Martha let out a sharp cry when the boy's knuckles caught her right across the face. "Mr. Lucas, Mrs. Voss never returned to the house last night. I don't know the trick to making the rash feel better. Could you tell me how she usually treats it? I'll copy whatever she does."

At the sound of the housekeeper's voice, Lucas snapped his eyes open and immediately let out an ear-splitting wail. "How am I supposed to know that? Why are you asking me? Go ask her yourself! It hurts so much! What sort of mother acts like this? Get her on the phone! I'm ordering you to call her right this second!"

Martha hastily agreed and pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed Evelyn's cell. At this point, she felt even more frantic than the crying child. 'If Mrs. Voss stays away much longer, this entire household is going to come apart at the seams,' she thought.

Yet the line clicked straight over to an automated recording; the phone remained switched off. Left with no alternative, Martha could only stand by the bed and try her best to soothe the boy.

The moment Damon stepped into the doorway, Lucas's sobs thickened as he started venting to his father. "Daddy, Mommy is awful. She stayed out all night on purpose just so I'd have to suffer like this.

"She's just jealous of Camilla! She hates seeing how well Camilla and I get along, so she's doing this to get back at me. Daddy, I hate her! I hate her more every single day!"

Taking in his son's red, tear-streaked face, Damon's expression darkened as he wheeled around to face the gathered staff. "Is this why I pay your salaries? To stand around like a pack of useless idiots? Evelyn always knew the exact routine to settle Lucas whenever he got like this. Did every single one of you fail to pay attention?"

Dead silence met his outburst. Every staff member stared down at their shoes, too terrified to utter a syllable. The generous wages kept them working here, yet nobody was reckless enough to bluff when it came to handling the boy's condition.

Ultimately, they had to summon the family physician to apply a medicated cream to the rashes, which finally brought the crying to a halt. That brief quiet, however, vanished the instant father and son walked into the dining room and spotted the morning meal laid out on the table, both of their expressions souring all over again.

Completely out of options, Martha slipped away into a quiet corner of the hall and dialed Evelyn's number one more time with shaking hands. Having woken up from a full night's rest, Evelyn had already powered her device back on.

Hearing the line actually connect, Martha nearly wept from sheer relief. "Mrs. Voss, Mr. Lucas has been missing you terribly. He hasn't stopped asking for you since the moment he opened his eyes this morning. He asked me to ring you and find out when you'll be coming back home."

Speaking into the receiver, Martha weighed every word with extreme caution, terrified that one wrong phrase might push Evelyn to stay away for good. Every servant under this roof knew that Lucas was the center of Evelyn's universe. Bringing up her son had always been the guaranteed way to make her back down.

Yet when Martha finished her plea this time, the voice coming through the speaker remained entirely flat and unbothered. "Martha, save the made-up stories. You don't need to invent excuses to lure me back. I'm not returning to that house, and I know for a fact that Lucas doesn't miss me at all.