Chapter 8 Standing Up for Fairness
Lauren looked frantically at the medications scattered on the floor, aware that Quentin was not a man to be trifled with. But did he really need to assert his dominance in this household like this?
Bending over awkwardly to pick up the medicine, Lauren thought she could put up with anything as long as her baby was okay. She had endured before; she could do so even more now.
Watching Lauren crouch and pick up items, an unusual feeling crossed Quentin's mind. What was he to make of this woman? Was she strong? Stoic? Or was she pitiable?
After gathering the medicine, Lauren stood up and said, "I'll come down after taking my medication."
Quentin opened the door, closing it behind him with a loud clang, leaving Lauren standing alone in the room.
Lauren, already very hungry, had planned to cook and eat before taking her medicine, but, inconveniently, Quentin had returned and insisted she go back to the family home, wrecking her plans for a meal.
Dragging her tired body, Lauren poured a glass of water to take her medication, but then there was another knock on the door.
She put down the water glass and opened the door, only to find a young maid.
"Madam, Quentin has asked you to come down for dinner," the maid said, her head bowed, not daring to meet Lauren's eyes, as she had often gossiped about her.
"Oh, thank you," Lauren replied softly, even though she was confused, she didn't ask for details.
Dinner? She touched her lower abdomen, where a little life was growing. It needed to be fed as well...
No matter Quentin's intentions, she decided it was best to fill her stomach first.
Lauren followed the maid downstairs, finding the flurry of activity amongst the household staff in the grand foyer both ironic and strangely lively. It had been ages since the house buzzed with this kind of energy - reserved, it seemed, for the rare occasions when Quentin graced them with his presence.
The butler stood by the door, his eyes gleaming with genuine joy at the sight of Lauren. He was truly happy for her.
Turning toward Quentin, who sat immersed in the morning paper on the sofa, the butler noted his master's focus on the current events, completely indifferent to the goings-on around him.
The attitudes of the other staff members toward Lauren had also taken a complete one-eighty.
"Madam, please take a moment to relax here, the soup will be ready shortly, and there's no need to worry," said the usually opportunistic and gossipy housekeeper.
Lauren wasn't fazed by the sudden change in demeanor; she knew these hired hands mirrored their master's moods. When Quentin previously ignored her existence, they did too. However, his capricious return this time had unexpectedly brought her this burst of ‘fortune.’
With a neutral expression, Lauren nodded. She wasn't one to hold grudges and casually took a seat at the far end of the couch, as far away from Quentin as possible.
Perhaps it was an illusion, but once seated, she felt a chilling aura emanating from Quentin, as if intent on freezing her in place. She couldn't help but shrug her shoulders, wondering what she had done to offend him.
Quentin, noticing Lauren's innocent, bunny-like demeanor as she perched on the couch, frowned. Despite her schemes that led her into his bed that night, she was now keeping her distance and denying her own games — what a devious woman!
"You shouldn't come back to the home with me," Quentin said coldly.
Lauren, taken aback, blurted, "Why?"
The contemptuous curl of Quentin's lips was a prelude to his cutting words, "Do you want to spread your illness, or are you planning to play the martyr to the Dowager, claiming I've mistreated you?"
Stunned by his accusation, Lauren was at a loss for words. When had she turned into such a conniving character in his eyes?
"I understand," Lauren said, her tone stern. She was nothing more than his wife in name, and it was essential the Dowager, Hannah, remained unaware of their true circumstances.
Her throat was swollen and raw from the cold, and Lauren's voice came out slightly hoarse.
Quentin feigned indifference, but inwardly, a flicker of concern for her worsening condition troubled him.
The servant's gaze toward Lauren held a hint of complexity. It seemed the ugly duckling, Madam, hadn't managed to secure a higher status. Quentin was aware of the household situation and cast a stern look over everyone present. He disliked the servants' attitude—especially how they treated Lauren.
"Uncle Robinson," Quentin suddenly called out.
The butler, hearing his name, hurried over. "Quentin, what can I do for you?"
Quentin gazed disdainfully at the servant standing by and said, "Fire all the servants in the house. Bring in new staff that recognizes who their true employers are."
The butler was taken aback, unsure why Quentin would make such an abrupt decision. He stood there, paralyzed with uncertainty.
The servants, learning they were about to be dismissed, began to plead. "Quentin, please don't fire us, we'll work hard, we won't slack off."
"Please, Quentin, have mercy on us. I have a family in dire straits, and children to feed... I'm begging you..."
Quentin stood up, his expression cold as ice. "I'm tired of dealing with spineless people like you. Don't make me repeat myself, vanish from The Robinson Family."
Lauren watched the whole scene without showing any emotion, a part of her felt as if Quentin was taking up her defense. No, no, no, that must be an illusion.
Hearing the servants' pleas tugged at Lauren's heart, but her own situation in The Robinson Family was already awkward enough. What power did she have to help them stay?
The butler quickly grasped Quentin's intent and tried to calm the servants down, "Everyone, stop making a scene. Don't anger Quentin."
The people reluctantly cast Lauren a few resentful glances before storming off to the backyard to pack their belongings.
The chef, hidden in the kitchen simmering soup, breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the commotion outside. Lucky for him, he wasn't present. Otherwise, he'd likely be out of a job as well.
After the soup was ready and Quentin had stood up, Lauren followed him to the dining table. They ate in silence, not exchanging a single word throughout the meal.
Once full, Lauren returned to her room. Since Quentin wanted her to stay away from the family home, it gave her the perfect opportunity to take her medication and get a good night's rest.
Quentin, his gaze deep and thoughtful, looked toward the second floor, lost in contemplation. After a long while, he grabbed his coat and left the house, driving away into the distance.
Lauren woke up again, and it was already one in the afternoon. Stretching languorously, she felt much more at ease. After taking her temperature, which read 98.5 degrees, she was relieved—the fever had significantly subsided. The doctor had told her as long as the fever went down, there would be no problems.
Indeed, nothing heals the body quite like food and sleep. Lauren, in good spirits, walked downstairs only to see a line of people standing outside, resembling a team of servants.
"Uncle Robinson, who are these people?" Lauren asked the butler with a puzzled look.
The butler smiled kindly and responded, "At Quentin's request, I have hired these new servants to take care of you, Madam, from now on."
Lauren was taken aback by the butler's efficiency.
"This is Lauren; you all must take good care of her," the butler instructed the servants.
"It's nice to meet you, Lauren," the servants greeted politely.
Lauren offered an awkward smile, "There's no need for such formalities."
---
