Unloved: A Sims Story by orenjiAi

Unloved 8
Act II

If Elia thought the Robert she knew was proper before, he paled in comparison with the butler standing in front of her. She refused to believe he was the same person. It was as if hearing the raspy voice at the other end of the radio activated a switch within him. And in an instant, he dropped all the warmth, friendliness, and cuteness he showed her a while ago—Wait! Did she just think he was cute? Instead, he stood up straight, told her to wait, and slowly retreated into the shadows. Elia was certain she did not hear the doors opening and closing and imagined him passing through solid wood like a ghost.

By the time Elia managed to put on her tights, two black cars and a limousine rolled into the cour d'honneur of the chateau. Each vehicle bore two flags on their hoods. One for Simnation and another that had the words Commission Historique Nationale on it.
https://i.imgur.com/ZJpTq3D.png


For a quick second, there was only silence. Like the ominous calm before a storm. Time almost stood still. No one else seemed to be breathing. And even the tree branches outside stopped swaying in the wind. For the great number of people outside, it was eerily quiet. The only sounds came from the faint buzzing of the yellow electric bulbs and the tick-tocking of the mantel clock. Robert broke the suspense as he dipped his upper body in a stiff short bow. The helpers that had been hired for the luncheon soon followed. Suddenly, all at once, the vehicle doors swung open and a dozen men in black suits scrambled to assemble from the driveway to the stone steps leading up to the entrance.

"Hey, Elia! Watchu doing'?" a voice whispered from over her shoulder.

Elia resisted the urge to scream. She had been peeking through a crack in the doorway to see the foyer. She turned around and saw Adriel. He was on his toes, trying hard to also catch a glimpse of the commotion. She quietly shut the door behind her and dragged him back to the room Robert left her in.
https://i.imgur.com/ZWcPMgu.png

"I should be the one asking! What are you doing here?!" she barked at him. She was upset. If Adriel hadn't shown up she would have seen more. She would have known who to expect and could've braced herself mentally.
"I put up the decorations! I think I did quite well dont'ya think? Also, Elia, how could you? Throwing a party without inviting me?" he pouted.
"This isn't my par—Wait! You climbed in through the window!?" she asked exasperatedly.
"Hey..." Adriel asked thoughtfully, completely ignoring her question.
"Are you alright? You’re starting to sound exactly like Robert.” He made an impression, “Keep your feet off the 15th century footstool, Adriel!’”
Elia chortled.
“Nah! He’d be like ‘footstools aren’t from the15th century, Adriel!” Elia chimed in, speaking matter-of-factly. “And this fine china is hand painted... from China!”
“Ahh! Truly magnificent!” Adriel said with his pinky finger extended.
“The flower prints are a metaphor...”
“As expected from the finest artisans!”

Both teens howled with laughter. Adriel continued with his impressions. And Elia had to hold on to the table for support to keep herself from doubling over. She was thankful Adriel snuck in through the window. This was exactly what she needed. She didn't know how, but he always showed up at the right time.
https://i.imgur.com/6QwYMag.png

"Thanks, Adriel..." Elia said, composing herself.
"I was just worried. This feels awfully like being back in the orphanage. Out there is a lot of people. Big people. People that don't know me like you or Robert. People that I know would just... judge me. I guess I'm scared of feeling rejected...again.

"Well yeah," Adriel said casually, "but we're—you're not at the orphanage anymore. It's not like those people can still do anything that'll still change your life.
"You're free now. Right here. If those snoots out there decide for some reason that they don't want you around. Well, too bad! They're just gonna have to deal with it. You won't be losing anything this time from rejection. It's their loss. 'Coz then, they don't get to know this amazing girl in front of me...
Adriel gave a wide grin that made Elia blush.
"A-and people judge all the time anyway! You're not some adowable puppy dog that people are just gonna instantly like all the time!" he followed up.
"Adowable?" she snorted.
"Exactly!" he said reassuringly, "So just keep on being you."

The doors of the salon opened suddenly. Robert strode in and bowed before Elia.
"My lady, it is time."
Elia looked around but didn't see Adriel. He must have fled and quickly jumped out the window.

Elia walked behind Robert as he headed out into the grand salon. The usual large heavy sofas have been swapped with individual seats all facing the far end of the room. She was pleasantly surprised to find that from the dozens of people she saw in the foyer earlier, only ten of them were inside the room. Each seat is occupied by a person wearing black clothes. She heard their soft whispers. She didn’t look up to see their faces, but she can feel each of them kept their eyes on her as she walked to the foremost row.

Elia was relieved to finally reach her assigned place and turn away from all of the people present. Never had she felt more tired from walking such a short distance. It felt like she just waded against a strong current. In front of her was a long table where a purple urn, that Elia recognized to be Mistress Adelaida’s remains, stood proudly beside two organized stacks of folders, and her portrait.
https://i.imgur.com/1Os5myJ.png

No sooner had she taken her seat, an old, greying man, assisted by a tall, blond, teenager with a blood red undercoat came into the room. The teen sat the attorney at the only chair behind the table. Her purple eyes met the other teen's red ones. For a second, his mouth fell open. But he quickly came to his senses, ignored her, and talked animatedly to the old man.

"Alright, let's get this over with. 'Coz I'm starving!" the old man said looking past the small crowd and onto the meal prepared outside. A lady behind Elia scoffed in disapproval.
"Dearly beloved," he started monotonously, "we gather here in fond memory of Mrs. Adelaida Thebe, Madame Royale—not since the 19th century she's not!" several other people groaned. Elia didn't mind though. She was afraid that the whole ordeal would be too formal, given the sudden shift to Robert's mindset, but she found the old man amusing. Quite comical, actually. She wondered what had him on pins and needles in the first place.

He opened the folder and pulled out a sheet of paper. He gave it a flourish and pulled it closer to his face. He looked up to the audience. "And now, the moment of truth!"

"I, Adelaida Thebe, being of competent and sound mind, with residence at Royal Thebe Summer Palace, Capeside, Brindleton Bay, hereby revoke all former Wills and testamentary dispositions made by me and declare this to be my last Will which I make this eighteenth day of May..."

Elia thought the atmosphere got heavier. Or maybe the sun outside got hidden in a cloud's shadow? She looked around to check but got distracted by the crowd. Their focus had shifted; and Elia reveled in that fact that she can look freely without anyone cringing. The small group seemed to hail from various backgrounds. Some look more worn than others and none of them, to her surprise, looked rich except the pale blond teen. Everybody however, shared the same undivided interest on what the lawyer was saying.

"...To my dear friend and governess, Amagi Rika, I bestow and bequeath §5,000 free of inheritance tax...". Elia heard Rika sob softly. (Oh Adelaida! Thank you! May the Watcher bless you!)

"The remainder of my assets both liquid and otherwise, including the historic Royal Thebe Summer Palace at Hound's Head, Capeside, Brindleton Bay, and all belongings therein, and power to retain or purchase as an authorized investment, I bestow and bequeath to my son, Antoine Thebe-de Grandpré provided that..."

That must be my father, Elia thought. She did not have any recollection of him. How warmly (or coldly) he had treated to her. How his voice sounded. Or even how he looked like. She had lost him in her early toddler years.

"I bestow and bequeath by substitution," the lawyer continued.