With a gesture that carried the weight of his final wishes, his great grandfather's
trembling hand directed towards Marcus. His parting words were etched in that
moment, a prophecy that this young boy held the potential to achieve remarkable
greatness in the times to come.
Though many years had elapsed since his great grandfather's departure from
this world, his plea resonated through time. He implored those who remained to
safeguard the porcelain, a tangible link to a cherished past and an unwritten
promise for the future.
Millie felt the weight of Marcus’ anguish. But his accusations and the tangible
proof of the porcelain debris left her grasping for some semblance of defense.
She looked around desperately, half-hoping for a camera that might have caught
the real culprit.
Marcus scoffed.
“Is it a daily mission of yours, Millie, to brew storms?”
Upon observing that Millie's attention seemed scattered, her gaze darting in
search of an escape from the intensity of the situation, Marcus’ anger surged to
greater heights.
The moment he stepped into the room, his eyes fell upon Millie, standing
adjacent to the heap of shattered fragments. In the absence of any other
plausible culprit, suspicion could only gravitate towards her.
She could hear the increasing ire in his tone. On impulse, she retorted, “It’s just
porcelain. I can buy another. Why this tempest over spilled milk?”
His sharp intake of breath made her regret her words. “So you admit your guilt?”
Never had she anticipated that Marcus would interpret her words as a
confession, a direct acceptance of guilt. Although a shock momentarily held her
captive, Millie swiftly regained her composure and vehemently shook her head in
denial.
“T haven't,” Millie protested. “But I think I can shine a light on the real
perpetrator.”
The escalating exchange between the two drew the attention of the servants,
who were compelled to approach the door, their curiosity piqued. With cautious
concern, they gently inquired about the unfolding situation within.
Millie's gaze shifted towards the door, where an unanticipated sight met her eyes.
Mae, the very person who had beckoned her to the study, was surreptitiously
concealed behind the door’s frame, attempting to evade notice.
Millie pointed directly at her.
“Mae, step forth.”
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The implicated maid hesitated, her
eyes darting, looking for an escape.
But the collective gaze held her
captive. The content is on
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chapter there!
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She lowered her head, her actions
rendered feeble in the face of
mounting scrutiny. The content is on
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chapter there!
“Mrs. Thomas, how may I serve?”
Mae stood there, her voice subdued.
Millie’s conviction deepened; there had to be a connection to Mae.
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Moments ago, he asserted his
prohibition on her entrance to the
study. Yet it appeared Mae had
orchestrated a deceitful maneuver.
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