**Chapter 95** As the night deepened, a sense of unease lingered around Rosalie, her mind swirling with doubts. After all, it was no small matter that Elliot had nearly severed their bond because of the presence of this woman. Finally, as the clock struck midnight, Elliot’s fever broke. A warm orange glow bathed the room in tranquility as he stirred and propped himself up. His eyes fell upon Chelsea, curled up on the edge of the bed, lost in slumber. A shadow of irritation creased his brow as he slipped out of bed, the remnants of the night’s turmoil clung to him like a heavy fog. He left the room silently, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving Chelsea unaware of the storm brewing in his heart. The morning sun bathed the world in golden light, yet inside Chelsea’s heart, a chill of despair gripped her. She awoke to find the bed beside her unoccupied, an echo of absence that mirrored her own tumultuous emotions. Panic flickered in her chest as she dashed downstairs, calling out for Elliot. “Mrs. Cooper!” she cried out, nearly breathless with urgency. “Have you seen him?” Mrs. Cooper’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I’ve been downstairs this entire time, yet Master Elliot hasn’t come down!” “What do you mean he’s not in the room? I thought for sure he would be here!” Chelsea's voice quivered with rising panic. Mrs. Cooper’s face paled with concern. “Oh dear! Master Elliot can’t just vanish!” In a burst of haste, Mrs. Cooper hurried upstairs, urgency pulsing through her as she and Chelsea scoured every room on the second floor. Their search yielded nothing; the air grew heavier with each unturned corner. “I should have stayed awake,” Chelsea lamented, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It’s my fault! I didn’t even notice when he got up…” Mrs. Cooper, her heart racing, dashed back downstairs. “I’ll speak with the gatekeeper. If Master Elliot left, there will be a record of it.” After a brief exchange, Mrs. Cooper returned with disheartening news: Elliot had never left the premises. Gathering the staff, she coordinated a meticulous search of the villa. Thirty minutes passed, stretching like an eternity, and the gathered servants reported in one by one, each response heavier with dread. “He’s not in the front yard.” “Nor is he in the backyard.” “No signs of him in the warehouse or parking lot.” “All ground-level rooms have been searched… aside from Madam’s room.” Tension thickened the air as Mrs. Cooper made her way to Avery’s door. She hesitated, a wave of anxiety crashing over her, but then pushed the door open. Relief flooded her senses as she found Elliot lying peacefully on Avery's bed, the sheets tangled around him like the chaos of the previous night. Without a moment’s pause, Mrs. Cooper returned to the hall where Chelsea waited, anxiety etched on her face. “Miss Tierney, you should perhaps return now. If Master Elliot needs you, he will reach out.” Chelsea’s heart sank, a tempest of emotions twisting within her. “Why is he in Avery’s bed? Didn’t they argue? This is a dire situation… Why would he—” Mrs. Cooper’s voice sliced through Chelsea’s turmoil, “If you hadn’t spent the night in Master Elliot’s room, he wouldn’t have sought comfort in Madam’s. He despises having outsiders in his personal space.” Tears stung Chelsea’s eyes as she protested, “Am I an outsider? I’ve been by his side for ten years!” Mrs. Cooper’s voice softened yet carried an undeniable weight. “Miss Tierney, I understand your struggles; they haven’t been easy for you. But love cannot be forced upon another, especially when it’s unrequited.” Fury ignited in Chelsea. “How could you speak to me like that?!” “Lady Avery never berates her staff because she’s their superior. It’s not about being better or worse than her,” Mrs. Cooper replied. “Sometimes, we must see our strengths and recognize our own weaknesses.” With those words hanging heavily in the air, Chelsea stormed out of Elliot’s mansion, anger and confusion swirling like shadows around her. At eight o'clock that morning, Elliot emerged from the sanctuary of Avery’s room, the fog of the night lifting but leaving behind a dull ache in his head. His fever had subsided, yet fatigue weighed on his limbs like a leaden cloak. Mrs. Cooper rushed to greet him, a steaming bowl of soup held tightly in her hands. “Master Elliot,” she said, concern evident in her gaze. “Madam came to see you last night.” He accepted the bowl but made no move to eat, instead urging Mrs. Cooper to continue with his eyes. “You were asleep when she came upstairs. Miss Tierney was there, tending to you,” Mrs. Cooper explained, dodging his piercing gaze. “I had no idea she would be so reckless.” Elliot’s voice, hoarse and weary, cut through the air. “Do not allow her in my room again.” Mrs. Cooper nodded, a slight hesitance in her demeanor as she delivered the next blow. “There was an altercation last night between Madam Rosalie and Miss Tierney. Madam took her luggage and left. I fear she may not return.” The silence that ensued was deafening, laden with unspoken regrets and the promise of impending storms.