**Ashley**
I was confused by Simon’s behavior. One moment he seemed to want me, and the next, he appeared annoyed by my presence. What kind of person was he?
The more I thought about it, the more my heart ached. I initially blamed Simon for the pain, but it only grew worse. I decided I needed rest to escape the discomfort. As night fell, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and counting the steps in my room to distract myself. I resolved to face whatever came next with courage and determination.
“Ashley! ASHLEY!!” The loud call jolted me awake. The shouting shattered my sleep, and I frowned deeply at the disturbance.
Madame Morticia burst into the room, her stern presence unmistakable even without words. Her silence was more unsettling than any noise. Unable to stay still, I sprang from the bed.
“Good morning. I see you’ve gotten lazy about waking up early,” she said sharply but with a hint of warmth.
“Leave me alone!” I groaned. Before I could say more, she tossed a pillow at me.
“Ugh!” I sat up, rubbing my eyes as Madame Morticia’s stern face came into view.
“Good morning, Ash! I suppose you’re getting too comfortable here!” she said, her irritation clear, but her affection peeked through.
“Madame Morticia!” I stood up, meeting her gaze with a teasing smile. “Are you jealous?”
“Jealous? Why on earth would I be jealous of you? I’m old enough to be your mother!” she replied, giving me a playful punch on the shoulder. I laughed and hugged her tightly.
“I know you care about me!”
“Ehh!” She pushed me away, causing me to land back on the bed. “Listen, you need to get yourself together… I hate having to do this!”
She paced the room, clearly exasperated but trying to keep her composure. “Seriously, Ash, if you keep this up, I’ll regret all this. Lucas wants us out, so you need to get dressed. The media will be there, and I need you to look presentable.”
I quickly got out of bed, nodding earnestly. “Of course, Madame Morticia. I’ll be ready soon.” I gave her a mischievous grin before heading to the closet.
As I changed, I heard her grumbling about how the day was starting off poorly. I smiled to myself. Despite her constant complaints, I knew she cared.
When I emerged from the bathroom, I almost bumped into Lucas.
“Lucas?”
“Good morning, Lucas. Good morning, Madame Morticia,” I said, still trying to wake up.
“You’re coming with us to the Pack’s art museum,” Lucas informed me, turning to Madame Morticia. “Make sure she’s properly dressed and presentable.”
“Of course, your highness. I’ll handle it,” Madame Morticia replied.
Once Lucas left, Madame Morticia’s smile vanished. I rolled my eyes and lay back on the bed.
“Get up now!” she commanded, causing me to frown at her tone.
“Oh, Madame Morticia, don’t you ever get tired of yelling? It’s not helping.”
“Get up and shower; you heard what his highness said.”
“Yes, I heard, and I’ll get to it,” I replied, covering my face with the sheets. She yanked them away, and I smiled at her predictable reaction.
“Get up, Ashley, or I’ll keep bothering you,” she said, nudging me. Reluctantly, I got up, yawning and stretching. Although I felt exhausted, my mind was already alert.
After a quick shower, I scrubbed away the exhaustion of the day. I applied a light amount of makeup to enhance my features and chose a beautiful dress that I hoped would meet Madame Morticia’s standards. It was a soft blue that complemented my eyes and flowed gracefully.
When I finally made my way downstairs, Madame Morticia was waiting at the bottom of the grand staircase. She gave me a critical look but nodded in approval.
“You look decent enough,” she said, her tone softer but still brisk. “Let’s go. Lucas is waiting.”
I followed her to the car, where Lucas was already seated, calm and composed. He barely glanced at me as I climbed into the backseat.
“We should be on our way,” he said, his voice steady and authoritative.
As the car pulled away from the mansion, I tried to settle into the plush seat and enjoy the ride. The city streets were bustling with activity, but I began to feel an unsettling discomfort in my head. It started as a dull ache but soon grew sharper, making it difficult to concentrate.
“Are you alright?” Lucas’s voice broke through my discomfort, pulling me back to reality.
“Just a headache,” I replied, trying to sound casual despite the growing pain. My body felt unusually warm, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“Do you need anything?” Lucas asked, his tone now showing concern.
“No, I’ll be fine,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure. I took deep breaths, hoping to ease the discomfort.
As we continued driving, the car’s climate control seemed to make my discomfort worse. The temperature inside felt too warm, and I fiddled with the air vents, seeking relief. The city outside sped by, but my focus was entirely on the escalating pain and the heat radiating through my body.
Madame Morticia noticed my discomfort and turned around from the front seat. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, her expression genuinely concerned.
“I’m just feeling a bit off,” I admitted, my voice tinged with worry.
Lucas glanced at Madame Morticia before looking back at me. “We’re almost at the museum. If you’re still feeling unwell, we can arrange for someone to take you back to the mansion.”
“I’ll manage,” I said, not wanting to make a fuss. “I don’t want to miss this.”
The car arrived at the Pack’s art museum, an impressive building with grand columns and intricate designs. As we got out, I tried to shake off my discomfort and put on a brave face. I didn’t want to appear unwell in front of the media and pack members.
Lucas opened the door for me, and I stepped out, though my legs felt shaky. Madame Morticia offered her arm for support, which I accepted gratefully. Together, we walked up the steps and entered the museum.
Inside, the cool air was a relief from the heat I’d been feeling. The museum was filled with beautiful artwork and bustling with people. The media was already there, cameras flashing and reporters mingling. Lucas, Madame Morticia, and I navigated through the crowd of cameras and microphones.
Despite the cooler air inside, my headache persisted and my body temperature continued to fluctuate. I felt dizzy and struggled to focus on the art around me. My vision wavered, and I took a moment to steady myself against a nearby wall.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Madame Morticia asked again, her concern evident. “You don’t look well.”
“I’m just a little dizzy,” I said, trying to downplay it. “I’ll be fine.”
Lucas approached and scanned the room. “Let’s find a quieter place for you to sit for a moment. We can’t have you collapsing in front of everyone.”
We moved to a less crowded corner of the museum, where I could sit and rest. Lucas arranged for a chair, and Madame Morticia handed me a glass of water.
“Drink this,” she said gently. “It might help with the headache.”
I sipped the water slowly, hoping it would ease the discomfort. The coolness was soothing, and I focused on relaxing and letting the pain pass.
As I sat there, Lucas and Madame Morticia talked quietly with a few important guests. Their voices were a distant murmur, and I closed my eyes briefly, trying to center myself. The discomfort remained, but I was determined not to let it ruin the day.
The museum visit was important, and I didn’t want to miss out or disappoint anyone. I was committed to pushing through, even with the pounding headache and fluctuating body temperature.
Eventually, Lucas returned to my side, his expression softening. “How are you feeling now?”
“A little better,” I said with a small smile. “Thank you for your patience.”
He nodded, looking relieved. “Let’s take it slow for now. If you need to leave early, just let us know.”