One young maid collapsed to her knees, crying, “Mr. Locke, we all know Miss Wells means everything to you! So, we’ve done everything carefully, her meals, her clothes, her bedding, everything’s the best we could find!”
Before she could finish, a bodyguard stormed in, grabbed her, and, without hesitation, cut off both her hands before dragging her out.
The hall went dead silent after that. No one even dared to breathe.
“No one can tell me what happened?” Grayson said coldly. “Fine. Each of you, leave me a pair of hands.”
I stepped forward quickly, lips trembling. “It has nothing to do with them. It’s my problem. Let them go.”
He looked at me, his expression softening instantly. He pulled me into his arms and gently wiped my face with his sleeve, as if nothing had just happened.
“My wife has spoken,” he murmured. “Forget about today.”
But the next morning, every servant in the villa had been replaced. But even with scented candles burning in every corner, the smell of blood still lingered in the air.
Yet, Grayson acted like nothing had happened and even personally fed me spoonfuls of nourishing porridge, one bite at a time.
I ate mechanically, my heart frozen solid.