The butler, stood motionless for a while at the foot of the staircase, his wrinkled hands trembling slightly. He could still feel the sting of the slap on his face, but it wasn’t the pain that unsettled him — it was fear. Not for himself, but for the young master.He turned away slowly and walked toward his chamber at the east wing. Every step echoed softly against the floor. Inside, the dim yellow glow of a lantern cast long, uneasy shadows on the walls.He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, pressing his fingers to his temples. Something isn’t right, he thought. Jeremy isn’t just being arrogant — he’s plotting something.He had known Jeremy since he was a boy — a spoiled, cunning child who grew up with a father who knows how to manipulate people like chess pieces. And the way he had spoken today — the venom in his voice, the coldness in his laughter — felt darker than that of his father.Jeremy was becoming worse than his father.The old butler sighed, staring at the small wooden b