Romantic or melancholy

It wasn't the usual boring and eerie vibe, the atmosphere at the Millers gave that night. It was an ambience that felt coldly different from normal, or maybe waiting to stir trouble as it may seem to be like. One could certainly hear even the slightest drop of a pin at the unlikely silence, the entire mansion seemed to be at from a distance.

Dalton strutted tyrannically step by step like a phantom down the hallway with an imposing presence, which intensified by the step he took while wearing the regular cold expression on his face. His head butler and assistant, Alex, was holding a luxurious leather briefcase in his right hand, with his eyes drooped to the floor as he paced slowly behind him.

The sound of their shoes pressing against the surface of the floor was so silent, but the most cautious and observant of the smallest things that went on in the mansion, and were always everywhere, could sense their presence instantly.

Quickly, the maids came in a chaotic and disorganized manner, and arranged themselves by the right corner of the broad hallway. In a well defined order, they stood with their heads bowed to the ground like they were waiting for some specific order.

It was an annoying practice of theirs to always welcome the boss, even till the late hours that they were probably meant to be in their own quarters. One would always wonder what unending jobs they always did, around the mansion all day till that late in the night.

Dalton suddenly halted by the door of the only room down the long hallway, with a bewildered look that was beginning to inscribe on his face. Turning to Alex, he asked him in a curt manner with a voice that was deep and coarse, "Has the owner of this room changed?"

Alex, whose mind had wandered a bit from the happenings around him, was jumbled for a few seconds, and had not understood what his boss was trying to insinuate, "What? Sir, do you me....." he mumbled confusingly, which made Dalton's mood begin to shoot up in anger by the assistant, who seemed to be so disorientated by the question he needed an effective answer for.

"Is this still a room?!" His arrogant voice demanded, still not making any particular point out with an authoritative tone that made Alex's entirety shudder.

He needed to decipher fast what his boss was trying to insinuate. Unusually, his brain seemed to have failed him painfully just at the moment when he needed it.

The maids who were still standing in their positions, had felt the reverberation of the long lasting effect of his voice across the whist hallway. It sent cold shivers down their tiny spines, like they had not heard such in the months or years that they have spent in the Millers mansion.

"Yes sir. Mrs. Miller had been in her room all day," he instinctively replied and comported himself, hoping that was what Dalton had been asking about.

Nothing was as mind wrecking for him, as Dalton's encoding of words that always stressed him out. Everyone in the room began to guess in their minds the possible reasons, he would ask about the wife he had never once cared about before. They finally figured it out.

Settling into the silence, there was elegant and dignified soft classical music playing out of the room that was soulful, and the voice of the singer was like a stream full of romantic tenderness. They had never heard such in a long time of working in the mansion.

Romantic or melancholy? The message of the song was unfathomable.

The maids and Alex were stunned and left in a perplexed state, because they all began to doubt if it was truly Mrs. Miller that was in the room. It could never be her causing such a nuisance of supposed noise, when she knew the kind of family and husband that she was married to. There was no reason why she would put herself in trouble out of the blues, and play such loud classical music in the mansion.

To make the situation of their unconfirmed skepticism worse, they had not even seen her all day to know if she was inside. It was better to be sure of the answer to give, because Dalton's anger could escalate if they give him vague answers, and he later finds out that they were not valid.

Without further questions and answers to expect from them, he casted an unreadable look at everyone and stalked past them, with his left hand well tucked into his tuxedo pants. Everything about his physical appearance, hot steaming body, and even the way he walked almost looked perfect.

Right before Dalton got to the next door, Alex had scurried hurriedly ahead of him to open the large European door, that led to the large living room that was richly cultured, idyllic and classy with beautiful art works.

There was a rare, three-tier diamond chandelier that hung above the ceiling of the huge room, which had a richly embellished wall that was a soft shade of mauve, perfectly complementing the refined grey painting.

It had comfortable luxurious chairs and beautiful Moroccan patterns, which brought in an air of exotic opulence. Bordering on minimalism, the subdued yet expansive living room exudes luxury, with shiny wood floors that were charming and warm. The living room led to the huge and beautiful stairs that led to Dalton's personal suite in the mansion.

He stood in front of the glass window in his room, and was dressed in a white robe that left his bare rock hard chest, open to sight and cold air that waltzed into the room.

His eyes gazed outside through the french window and wandered through the large compound, with his hands clasped behind his back as he stood firm. He seemed to be half lost in the mediation of his clouded thoughts.

There was a rhythmic knock on the huge door that led to the room, as Alex pushed the translucent door back and entered slowly, distracting Dalton whose thoughts were almost clear.

He turned his head to the back and his lips almost tugged into a frown, immediately he saw who had entered the room. It was a predictable reason why Alex had come into his room to distract him.

"Your mother asks, if you would like to have dinner," he informed apologetically, with his eyes watching the dark stare of his boss who had not said anything.

Dalton was the one who told him that he would prefer the knocking of the door to his room, rather than the irritating alarm bell that was placed outside the room, and was meant for the same reason.

The billionaire boss who was pissed that his assistant had come to disrupt his peace, cocked an eyebrow at him and turned back to face the direction of the window without uttering a word. Alex, who had gotten the message, bowed and left the room gently, closing the heavy glass door behind him as he almost tiptoed away. Dalton hated the overly noise of things around him.

Right at the hallway in the front of the only door sculpted out there, stood a maid who was dressed in a regular uniform for every maids, which was a white shirt tucked into a pleated black skirt. She had knocked on the door for longer than two minutes, as she wondered if her knocks were too low to be heard by the person who was inside.

"Mrs. Miller, dinner is served," Madison announced, increasing the intensity of her knock this time around. There was no answer or sound whatsoever, except the classical music which still played that made her knock even harder this time.

'Maybe she is not feeling too well,' Madison thought and tried to push the door knob which held stiff to no response.

Surprised at her realization, she tried to twist it more forcefully, when she found out that Mrs. Miller had locked the room from inside which surprised her. The boss's wife never rarely locks her door at that time.

She made to leave the hallway without caring if she answered anymore, when she saw the hovering figure of Mrs. Eleanor Miller the matriarch of the family from the dining room door. Her attention had been diverted by the fervent knocks that were coming from the place, she would really hate to go to.

"What is going on there?!" She asked with a sharp and irritated voice, as she slowly approached the scene where the noise was coming from.

She was a beautiful woman with blue eyes and brunette hair, who was flawlessly poised and elegant in walking even with her old age. Her lovely cologne permeated the air as she walked closer, her face scrunched up in irritation of being in the same breathing space with her son's wife.

"It... It is Mrs. Miller. She won't open the door and it is time for dinner," Madison answered anxiously. Even the mother of the family was as scary and intimidating as her son.

Mrs. Eleanor Miller was about to say something very rash and out of it, when she heard the sound of music coming from the room. A crease began to form around her eyebrows, as she wondered what in the world was happening.

Obviously shocked, she turned to Madison furiously, "Knock till she opens and if she doesn't in a few minutes, call the guards to break down the door," She commanded, and strode away from the hallway immediately. Her mind began to wonder what had come over the useless lady, whose wings that had been trampled upon by her.

'Seems like I have been lax on that stupid girl lately,' she thought maliciously.

The maids who still loitered around and were ready to leave to their own rooms, insignificantly whispered to one another because they knew what was going to happen next. It was going to be another dreadful night for the young lady again.

Not long after, two guards walked into the hallway and set out the equipment, that was going to be used to open the door forcefully. Madison didn't even bother to even try again, because she knew that knocking further on the door was useless.

The guards hit the door the first time with the large, metallic equipment they were holding, which made the loud sound rebound across every corner of the hallway. There was more tension and bated breaths in the room, as nothing else but only the loud bang of the metal object against the door could be heard.

They all had not noticed Alex who walked in silently into the scenery, and watched carefully the actions and movement that occurred, before he relayed Dalton's concise message to them all, "Mr. Miller says that he wants every where in the mansion still."

Immediately without any time wasted, every one of the servants present around shuffled away in silence to their abode, as everywhere became so peaceful and tranquil. No one was ready to lose their jobs, or peace to whomever it may be that night.

They would all wonder in their hearts why Dalton had not ordered for his wife to be thrown out, for disobeying one of the rules that governed the mansion's affairs; Not the slightest noise should be heard for no valid reason in or around the mansion.

Dalton, who was satisfied by the immediate peace and stillness of the mansion, sat in his glass balcony, still looking into the gleaming garden of the entire mansion where the extravagant beautiful fountain was centered.

He could only hear the song, Puccini - O soave fanciulla from La bohème that played the whole night even from a far distance at where he sat. The kind of music he had not heard in such a long time, communicated different feelings from ever felt.

He knew his mother wasn't going to just sit still.