"Not going," Melody Thorne closed her eyes. She didn't even want to move a finger, just wanted to sleep, sleep, sleep.
Seeing her fall asleep, Jared Quinn, the patient, had no intention of sleeping. He went downstairs, where Timmy's eyes were fixed on the upper floor.
He was waiting for Melody Thorne to come down, but instead, it was his father who came down.
"Master, master, you're still injured. Tell me what you want to do, and I'll do it immediately," the butler hurried over, extending his hands to support him.
Jared Quinn's eyes shot over with a sharp, warning glare.
As long as he doesn't collapse, his noble and proud bloodline is still there. How could he let someone help him like a cripple?
The butler quickly withdrew his hands upon receiving the warning, "Then, master... do you want to?"
Jared Quinn's gaze swept across the hall, settling on the kitchen with a deep look, as if pondering something, though his expression was mildly stiff.
