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

Sophia Modudu sat for almost an hour, her sharp gaze fixed on Victor with a look that held nothing but cold annoyance. Her eyes did not soften, not even for a moment. They burned with a mix of disappointment and clear disgust. Finally she spoke, her voice calm but cutting. "I do not remember asking you to involve anyone, and even if I wanted someone, it would never be this disgrace of a doctor," she said bluntly. Doctor Preston shifted uncomfortably on his seat. His hands twitched slightly, and he pressed his lips together as if trying to keep from speaking. He knew he had walked into a storm. The tension around him was heavy enough to crush him. Victor let out a long breath and rolled his eyes. The movement was small, but Sophia caught it. He wanted to challenge her. His chest rose as he held back a sharp reply. For a moment, anger flashed across his face. But the two soldiers standing behind Sophia reminded him to stay quiet. He forced his shoulders to relax and looked down.