Adrian stepped closer, his face unreadable. Elena startled awake, horror flooding her features.
“I’m so sorry, sir—please—I didn’t mean to—I’ll leave right now—”
She stood too quickly and swayed. Before she could fall, Adrian reached out, gripping her arms to steady her.
“Elena,” he asked quietly, “when was the last time you slept?”
She blinked, stunned by the question. “I… I’m fine. I made a mistake. Please don’t fire me.”
He frowned slightly. “Fire you? For being exhausted?”
A ripple of disbelief moved through the staff nearby. No one had ever heard him speak like this.
Adrian guided her back to sit—not as punishment, but with care.
“You didn’t fail,” he said. “You’ve been pushed too far.”
Her eyes burned—not just with shame, but with something dangerously close to relief.
Adrian straightened and turned to the hallway.
“As of today,” he said firmly, “this stops.”
By noon, the entire mansion was buzzing.
Because no one expected what he did next.
That afternoon, senior staff, HR, and the house manager were summoned to Adrian’s private conference room. Elena stood nervously near the back, unsure why she’d been included.
Adrian spoke calmly, but his disappointment was unmistakable.
“Let me be clear,” he said. “Elena Marquez is not in trouble.”
Murmurs filled the room.
“Her exhaustion exposed a serious management failure.”
The house manager tried to respond. “Sir, staff schedules—”
“Not hers,” Adrian interrupted. “She’s been working double and triple shifts. With no recorded overtime.”
Elena’s breath caught. She hadn’t known.
“She agreed because she felt she had no choice,” Adrian continued. “That is not volunteering. That is pressure.”
Silence fell.
“This estate does not function without its staff,” he said. “And exploitation will not be tolerated.”
He turned to Elena.
“Effective immediately, your schedule is limited to eight hours a day. Two days off per week. And your salary—” he lifted a document “—will increase by thirty percent.”
Elena gasped. “Sir, that’s—”
“Fair,” he said gently.
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