The housekeeper faltered, eyes darting nervously. Finally, he pointed toward one of the young cooks. "It… it's her, sir."
All eyes shifted to the cook, a mixture of shock, suspicion, and unease rippling through the room. Many had noticed her unusual behavior around the Young Madam but had dismissed it as antisocial tendencies. Only the kitchen staff knew the truth: this girl harbored resentment toward their new mistress.
Chibuzor's gaze zeroed in on her, cold and lethal, the kind that could make even the bravest falter. He stepped forward, each movement measured and deliberate. His voice sliced through the air like a sharpened blade.
"So," he said, slow and deliberate, "you thought it was okay to disrespect my wife? To endanger her life? Do you think I'm dead?"
