47

Chapter 47

I sat at the kitchen counter with my laptop open, scrolling through more apartment listings. Most of the decent ones were either too expensive or too small for my liking. My eyes burned from the lack of sleep, but I forced myself to keep searching. If I wanted to break things off with Richard, I needed to secure a new place first.

"Still looking?" Richard's voice caught me off guard.

I snapped the laptop shut and looked up to find Richard standing in the doorway, still in his work suit, his hair slightly tousled from the day. He still looked handsome, despite the mess.

"Yeah," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Haven't had much luck though."

He crossed the room and sat beside me. "Let me help."

"No, Richard—"

"Come on." He opened the laptop again and started scrolling through the listings. His brows furrowed when he saw the prices. "Jeez. These are way overpriced."

"That's why I'm still looking," I said.

"I could help pay." He offered casually, as if it were the simplest solution in the world.

"No." I declined.

"Carl—"

"I said no," I repeated, sharper this time. "I want to pay for it myself."

Richard leaned back, watching me carefully. "I don't care about the money," he said after a long pause. "Why does it matter so much to you?"

Because I can't let you pay for something I'll be living in after I leave.

"Because I want to pay it on my own," I mumbled.

Richard studied me a moment longer but didn't push. "Okay. Fine," he said eventually. "But I'm still helping you find the right place."

He squeezed my hand briefly before returning his focus to the screen. I tried not to flinch at the warmth of his touch.

For the next few days, Richard insisted on tagging along for every apartment tour. He made a game out of it, rating each one with mock seriousness as though we were shopping for a vacation home.

"This one smells like wet socks," he declared at one place, wrinkling his nose as we entered a damp basement studio.

The next had cracked tiles and flickering lights. "Murder basement vibes," Richard whispered, and I elbowed him to shut up, not wanting to embarrass ourselves in front of the agent.

We toured half a dozen more—each too small, too expensive, or just plain depressing. I was about to call it quits when we arrived at a modest one-bedroom on the edge of the city.

The living room had large windows that overlooked a small park. The hardwood floors were scuffed, the paint slightly uneven, but it was bright, clean, and, most importantly, affordable.

I ran my fingers over the kitchen counter. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

"This feels... right," I declared.

Richard stood beside me. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's nice. Lots of natural light. Perfect spot for Misty's scratching post."

I smiled faintly. Misty would like it here.

"Should I talk to the landlord?" he asked.

"I'll handle it," I said quickly.

"Okay," Richard said. His eyes glinted with excitement. "Can you picture us here?"

I looked at him sharply. "What?"

"Us," he said, gesturing at the living room. "We could set up a couch there. Get a coffee table that doesn't wobble. Maybe put a bookshelf by the window."

I forced a chuckle. "Let's focus on me moving in first, okay?"

He grinned, oblivious to the reasons why I wanted to move. "Sure, sure. One step at a time."

******

Back at the manor, I sat at my desk and pulled up the email from the real estate agent. The application process was straightforward but tedious. I filled out my employment information, listed my references, and double-checked my identification details.

Address history. I hesitated at that section, realizing that Preston Manor had been my home for years. It wasn't just my workplace; it was also where I'd built a life.

With a deep breath, I finished the form and attached the required documents. The "Submit Application" button hovered beneath my cursor.

If I click this, I'm really doing it.

My finger trembled over the trackpad. I can't believe I'm actually doing this.

I hit "Submit" before I could change my mind.

*********

And then came the waiting game. The days stretched on, feeling like the longest of my life. I hadn't heard any word from my agent. After a few days, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was her. I hurried to answer it.

"Hello?" I said, catching my breath.

"Hi, Carl. Is this a good time to talk?" she asked.

"Yes, it's fine. I'm hoping it's good news."

"You bet. Congratulations! Your application for the one-bedroom unit on Oakview Street has been approved. Would you like to schedule a move-in date?"

"Uh...yeah," I said, my voice a little shaky. "The first of next month, if possible, please."

"That works perfectly. We'll send you the lease details via email today."

"Thank you," I said and hung up.

The phone felt heavy in my hand. It was official. I had a place. A new address.

Away from Richard.

I took a deep breath. The next step had to be done. I walked to my desk and opened my laptop.

My fingers rested lightly on the keys as I started to type.

Dear Mr. Preston,

I stared at the blinking cursor.

How can I explain my resignation without giving away the real reason? I couldn't write: I'm quitting because I'm in love with your son and it's slowly killing me.

I rubbed my hands over my face, then started typing.

Dear Mr. Preston,

I am writing to formally resign from my position as Head Butler at Preston Manor, effective 30 days from today. I appreciate the opportunity to have served your family and am grateful for the trust and responsibilities entrusted to me during my time here.

Thank you again for everything.

I stared at the resignation letter I'd written. It felt cold and impersonal, but it was exactly what it needed to be.

With a deep breath, I hit print. The machine whirred softly, spitting out the single sheet of paper. I folded it neatly and slid it into an envelope.

Tomorrow, I'd hand it to Mr. Preston.

******

The next morning, I knocked on the door to Mr. Preston's home office. My palms were clammy, the envelope crinkling slightly between my fingers.

"Come in," came his deep, measured voice.

I stepped inside. Nathan Preston sat behind a massive mahogany desk, reviewing documents with focus. He looked up when he saw me, his brow lifting.

"Carl." His smile was faint but genuine. "Haven't seen you in here for a while. What's going on?"

I swallowed hard and walked forward, placing the envelope on his desk. "I came to give you this, sir. My resignation letter."

His expression shifted immediately. He leaned forward, brows knitting together as he picked up the envelope and opened it. His eyes scanned the letter in silence.

When he looked back at me, his usual easy demeanor was gone.

"You're leaving?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

He sat back, letting out a slow breath. "I didn't expect this." He crossed his arms. "You've been with us... what, twenty years now?"

"Almost twenty-one," I replied. I was eight when we moved in here.

"Twenty-one years," Nathan repeated. "You know, when we hired you as Robert's replacement, I thought you were too young. Too quiet." His lips curved faintly. "But you proved me wrong. You ran this house like you'd been born into it."

"Thank you, sir," I said, feeling a sense of pride,  his words were an affirmation I didn't know I needed.

"Can I ask why?" he asked. "You've always been professional. No issues with the staff. No complaints. So why now?"

I looked down at my shoes. "It just feels like it's the right time."

He was quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Is it because of Richard?"

The question sent my pulse racing. My head jerked up. "Sir?"

Nathan shook his head slightly. "I wonder if he's the reason why you decided to leave. I know my son has always been the troublemaker."

My mouth went dry. "Not really sir. I just think it's finally time for me to explore the world..."

Nathan's eyes were kind but knowing. "I understand."

Silence stretched between us before he sighed and sat back in his chair. "Well, Carl, I won't lie. This is disappointing. You've been more than just an employee. You've been part of the backbone of this house. When Robert retired, we were lucky to have you step up."

Hearing Robert's name hit hard. He'd been a mentor to me, and now I was walking away from the legacy he'd trusted me with.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said softly.

Nathan nodded once, his gaze steady but tinged with sadness. "A month, then?"

"Yes, sir."

I turned to leave, gripping the door handle.

"One more thing, Carl," Nathan called me.

I glanced back.

He gave me a tight, grim smile. "Whatever the reason you're leaving... I hope you know you'll always have our respect. And if you ever need anything, you can reach out. We're not just your employers. We're... well, maybe not family, but close enough."

My throat burned. "Thank you, sir. That means a lot."

I left the office feeling down. I had a month left, but the sting of leaving had already started to settle in.