Chapter 44
She asked the question casually, as if just making small talk.
Tina lifted her gaze, looking at Elizabeth in the tub, her expression still impeccably respectful. Her voice was steady as she replied, "Ms. Windsor, I wasn't hired from the outside. I've worked for the Smith family since I was a child, and I received my professional training from them. My duty is to serve the Smith family."
Raised within the Smith family since childhood... Elizabeth understood instantly.
This was someone truly bred for the role, her loyalty to the Smiths deeply ingrained, something money could never sway.
The thought she'd had of finding a similar assistant for herself vanished. She didn't have the time it would take to cultivate that kind of dedicated loyalty in a personal butler.
"I see," Elizabeth said coolly, not pressing further.
Once she was clean and dressed in comfortable loungewear, Elizabeth felt her energy returning. Tina dismissed the maids, and once again, the two of them were alone in the room.
"Ms. Windsor," Tina began with a slight bow, her tone apologetic, "regarding Mr. Smith entering your room earlier... I was the one who opened the door. Please, forgive me."
Elizabeth looked at her. Tina's eyes were sincere, but it was hard to tell how much of her apology was genuine and how much was simply part of her professional duty as a head housekeeper.
In the Smith family, Jacob's will was absolute. Tina couldn't, and wouldn't, have stopped him.
"I understand," Elizabeth replied, her voice even. "It wasn't your fault."
Under Jacob's absolute authority, his desires were the only thing that mattered.
For Tina to apologize at all was a sign of immense professionalism and a gesture of goodwill.
Tina seemed a little surprised by her reaction but simply nodded. "Thank you for your understanding. If you have no other requests, I won't disturb your rest."
"Alright. Thank you."
After having breakfast with Jack and handing him over to his early education tutor, Elizabeth headed out for her appointment.
Just as she exited the hallway of guest rooms and rounded a corner adorned with a classical oil painting, she came face-to-face with Michelle, who was walking toward her.
Michelle was a mature, sophisticated woman with impeccably tasteful makeup. Clutching a small handbag, she carried herself with an air of graceful composure. Elizabeth immediately guessed who she was.
Michelle paused for a fraction of a second when she saw Elizabeth, then a warm, slightly apologetic smile bloomed on her face.
"Ms. Windsor, what a coincidence," Michelle said, her voice soft. "I was just hoping for a chance to speak with you."
Elizabeth stopped, her gaze calm as she studied the woman before her. This was the first time she was formally meeting Michelle. She was impeccably preserved, radiating an elegant aura. Samantha looked a bit like her, but their vibes were polar opposites. Samantha was loud and prickly, spoiled and willful, while Michelle was poised and shrewd.
"Mrs. Smith," Elizabeth acknowledged with a slight nod, polite but distant. She had no idea what the woman wanted.
"Please, call me Michelle," she said, stepping closer, her tone growing even softer. "About Samantha—what happened last night, I heard everything. I am so terribly sorry, Ms. Windsor. I spoiled her rotten, and she has a blunt, thoughtless nature. She disrespected you, and I want to apologize on her behalf. I hope you won't hold it against her."
Her posture was deferential, her words earnest, as if she were genuinely a mother worried about her daughter's misbehavior. But this was the woman who had raised a daughter like Samantha. Elizabeth's instincts screamed not to trust her.
Elizabeth's expression remained neutral. "You're too kind, Mrs. Smith," she said flatly. "It's already in the past."
She had no desire to waste time on phony pleasantries and tried to end the conversation.
However, Michelle didn't seem ready to let her go.
She let out a soft sigh. "Ms. Windsor, you're young, beautiful, and have such spirit. For Mr. Smith to take such a special interest in you... It's truly remarkable."
Michelle's tone shifted, taking on the weight of someone with years of experience. "A family like the Smiths can give a woman so much. Immense power, endless wealth, a status that puts you above everyone else... These are things countless women out there would kill for."
Elizabeth listened quietly, offering no comment.
Michelle's gaze returned to Elizabeth, now tinged with something almost like pity. "But, Ms. Windsor, there are some things the Smith family can't give you. Or rather, things the man in that position can't give you."
She paused, as if choosing her words carefully, her voice laced with a sympathetic sorrow. "Like a whole heart. A pure, untainted love. A man who belongs only to you."
She was laying it on thick. Elizabeth's relationship with Samantha was terrible, yet here Michelle was, sharing such intimate-sounding thoughts during their very first meeting. It was deeply suspicious.
Michelle seemed to drift into a memory, her tone becoming wistful. "I've been married into the Smith family for many years. My husband, Gray, the previous Don... he was an incredibly charismatic man. Powerful, decisive, captivating."
Her voice held the distinct shimmer of a woman's infatuation. "But a man like that is never with just one woman. Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Countless women throw themselves at him, desperate for his favor, even if it's just for one night."
"And me," Michelle gave a self-deprecating laugh, a flicker of genuine bitterness in it, "I was just one of those women. A luckier one, I suppose. I gave him Samantha, secured a title, and got to live this glamorous life in this grand estate, draped in jewels and commanding respect. But..."
Her voice dropped. "Countless nights, I'd wait in an empty room, listening to the rumors about which new woman he'd taken where. Only I know what that feels like. Their parties and their fun had nothing to do with me. All I had was the loneliness. No matter how glamorous the outside looked, the inside was already scarred and frozen solid."
Elizabeth just watched her.
Michelle's performance was flawless—emotionally charged, rich with convincing detail. If Elizabeth weren't made of stone and already aware of the inner workings of the Smith family, she might have actually been moved by this heart-to-heart, maybe even felt a flicker of misguided solidarity.
Instead, she found it baffling. Almost funny.
This woman, who had clawed her way into her position through her child and her schemes, who had no legal marriage to Gray and was, in essence, still a mistress, what right did she have to say any of this? And what did Elizabeth's future marital happiness have to do with her?
This sounded less like advice and more like a deliberate, jealousy-tinged attempt to stir up trouble.
Michelle seemed to read the dismissal in Elizabeth's calm, unwavering eyes.