Mr. williams! madame is dying Novels & Stories

"Really? Is she not from a prestigious family? Would they allow their precious daughter to be married to someone who is dying?" "She is indeed from a big family. But she is perhaps a bastard child. Or else why the Madame called us back? The Madame wants her to suffer together with the half-dead. So we should get everything in this house before we leave." "Jonathan will get angry if we emptied this house." "Jonathan will only check the first floor but he was not allowed in this room. So take everything in this room." "Alright." The maid then sighed, "It's really too bad. I want to keep staying here. We don't have to do anything and we could even do whatever we want to that half dead. Although

On the other was Adrian’s picture-perfect family of three. Days passed before Adrian finally spared a thought for me, nestled as he was in the comfort of his "happy" home. At dinner, he asked absently, "Well, has she admitted her mistake?" Mr. Harris, the butler, faltered, his voice choking. "Sir… Madam has passed away." "What the hell did you say?"

Jack asked and seeing how Mrs Davis's expression had turned into grieve made his chest tight. “The madam isn't well. Her illness is getting worse and lately the doctors have said that there's nothing to be done.” Mrs Davis replied and Jack nodded before he headed into the mansion. Once he got in, he threw the car keys into the driver's hands and told him to get the stuffs from the car.

Maxwell said, his voice laced with bitterness. "You couldn't even take care of your own wife, so I had to do it for you. Otherwise, she would have died," Madam Williams retorted, her words oozing with contempt. "Granny, how did she survive? The doctor said that she was dead," Michelle asked, wiping tears away from her face.

“The man who used this room died this morning?” My heart dropped straight into my stomach. “Died?” “Yeah,” she looked at me over. “Do you want to claim his body?” Claim his body? His? “I'm sorry,” I tried to laugh. “My mother Miss Carter was in this room. This was her room.” She shook her head. “Mr Williams died of cancer this morning. Are you his daughter, Michelle?” I lost it. I rushed to her. “You better tell me where my mother is or I swear you are going to regret it.”

I was desperately clinging to that hope, praying that he would tell me it was just a cruel joke. But the silence on the other end of the line told me otherwise. When Mr. Williams finally spoke, his tone was gentle but firm. "I'm afraid not, Miss Madison. He's gone." I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand as tears streamed down my face. The words kept echoing in my mind: "He's gone." "Mr. Williams..." I tried again, my voice barely a whisper. "Miss Madison, no matter how many times you ask, the answer is going to be the same." His words were soft, almost kind, but they cut through me like a knife.

Adrian’s POV “Sir, Mrs. Amara Williams is dead.” The words hit me like a hammer to the chest. My assistant’s voice trembled slightly, as if he knew no human words could soften the blow. I felt my knees weaken. The world around me blurred, though nothing physically moved. “What?!” I managed to gasp, my voice barely audible. “That can’t be true. What do you mean?” “She’s gone, sir. Her husband and her best friend claim she committed suicide because she couldn’t fight her illness any longer.”

She goes to the other bed and sat beside Amaya who had fainted as a cause of Eleanor's death. "We should take her to the hospital instead," Zachary suggested, standing beside Madam Madison who crouched on the bed and was still giving attention to the lifelessly young lady. "Do you think the king will agree?" Willow sniffed in tears "You were all there when the king watch her die, he's so heartless and a beast!" She growled. "This is not helping! This is not helping!!!" Madam Madison sobbed, still not giving up. Suddenly, the room became silent as they let the aged woman concentrate on her work.

This has got to be some sort of tasteless joke. “he died!” Madam Maria, the longtime housekeeper, is wailing as she sits - no, sprawls ungainly - on the stairway. I waste no time asking her questions and instead run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, almost stumbling over her hefty body in the process. My stomach drops when I see the room in front of which everyone is clustered and from where kamir’s screams are coming from. From the looks on the faces of the people standing around, I no longer need to fear the worst. I can see it.

Raphael muttered. He answered the call, pressing the phone to his ear. “Catherine,” he said sharply, “what is it? I’m at the hospital.” Madam Catherine’s voice came through, shaky and filled with panic. “Sir, there’s been... a situation at the mansion,” she said. Raphael frowned, standing up straight. “What situation?” he asked. “What’s going on?” “It’s bad, sir,” Catherine said, her words trembling. “One of the maids is... dead.”