“That particular obstacle need not concern you further,” he assured her.
Detecting the subtle shift in her resistance, Ernest recognized the opening and deliberately gentled his approach, his voice losing its sharp edges.
“My grandmother’s condition shows improvement, though insufficient for discharge. Her convalescence requires continued hospitalization for the foreseeable future.”
Apprehension still clouded Elissa’s expression. “What contingencies exist if she returns…”
“That scenario is entirely prevented,” he stated with absolute certainty. Ernest dismissed the possibility with a decisive gesture. “My previous oversight has been rectified. I’ve arranged for someone to watch over her. If she makes any move, I’ll know right away.”
“Locke has been inconsolable, creating daily disturbances throughout the household. For his emotional well-being, might I impose upon your services for a limited extension? Would that arrangement be acceptable?”
Elissa’s features contracted in contemplation, silence stretching between them as she weighed her options. She harbored no delusions about the situation.
The transparent nature of Ernest’s strategic maneuvering wasn’t lost on her—this compromise clearly served as his interim tactic. Yet her attachment to Locke created an emotional tether she found impossible to sever completely…
Following a visible battle of conflicting priorities, resignation finally won out as she offered a reluctant nod of acquiescence.
“I accept these terms, with conditions,” Elissa stipulated carefully, her expression hardened with resolve. “You must prioritize securing Locke’s new governess without delay. The standard resignation protocol specifies a notice period of one month—that duration should prove sufficient.”
A month?
Ernest’s eyebrow arched skeptically as he considered her proposal. “Alright,” he conceded.
He acquiesced for the moment, but what he should do after that remained to be seen.
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Elissa couldn’t decipher the thoughts behind his calculating eyes, yet his agreement released a tension she hadn’t realized was knotting her shoulders.
“What are you standing there for?” Ernest glanced over his shoulder, his tone brisk. “Aren’t you leaving?”
“What?” Elissa blinked in confusion, caught off guard by his abruptness. “Now?”
“What do you think?” A knowing smirk played across Ernest’s lips. “Locke is waiting for you at home.”
With that cryptic remark, he turned and strode ahead, clearly expecting her to follow.
“Hurry up!” he called without turning. “Grab your bag and follow me!”
“Oh, okay,” she mumbled, hastily gathering her belongings.
Ernest drove Elissa back to Flynn Mansion.
“Miss Holland!”
The moment they crossed the threshold, Locke’s eager footsteps thundered across the marble floor, echoing through the grand entryway. Ernest’s advance call had prepared Locke for Elissa’s arrival, and now he bolted toward them at the first hint of their presence.
Elissa had barely crossed into the living room when Locke appeared before her, his small face alight with unbridled joy.
.
.
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