CHAPTER 159: CHAPTER 159: BE QUIET, DON’T MAKE NOISE

Upon hearing footsteps descending the stairs, she quickly raised her head. "Thomas Shan—"

The name ’Thomas Shannon’ remained unspoken, cut short when she saw Minimus Hart.

Amelia Shaw averted her gaze in disappointment, adjusting her emotions.

Minimus Hart smiled and gracefully approached her side. Wearing white gloves, her fingertips lightly swept across the tea table, checking if the maid’s work was satisfactory. She curved her lips and, feigning a bow, lowered her voice, "Did you think it was the Young Master?" How naive! Does she really think she stands a chance against the maniac? The Young Master’s attitude towards that maniac is, admittedly, puzzling. Yet, upon closer observation, it’s not so difficult to understand. He’s punishing the maniac. As for his methods, they’re nothing more than a slap on the wrist, in her opinion.

Inside the castle, maidservants were disguised as maids to bring the maniac food, starting with afternoon tea. Not only that, but the Young Master also had a doctor on standby for her at all times. In the entire manor, which other maid enjoyed such treatment? After neglecting the maniac for only a few days, the Young Master was already eager to have her serving him again. The hidden dynamics of their relationship weren’t hard to guess anymore.

Amelia Shaw suddenly laughed, her voice thick with mockery. "Minimus Hart, I actually pity you."

Minimus Hart’s smile remained unchanged.

"You like Thomas Shannon, but he has never even glanced at you. As for me, Thomas Shannon loved me once. And the maniac? She can at least climb into Thomas Shannon’s bed. But you? What do you have, other than being sent to various men’s beds by him?"

This remark stabbed Minimus Hart’s heart viciously.

It was the truth, and her deepest pain.

As the maid leader, she naturally understood that Thomas Shannon was a clean freak. It was precisely this understanding that made it even more painful.

Minimus Hart stood up, her face impassive, and her red lips slowly formed each word. "Let’s not laugh at each other. After all, none of us can compare to a maniac—including you, Amelia Shaw."

Sophie Sullivan was awakened by a sense of suffocation.

Her chest felt heavy, as if a huge rock was pressing down, making it difficult for her to breathe.

Forced awake, Sophie grumpily lifted her foot and kicked him away.

Caught off guard, Young Master Shannon was kicked some distance, almost falling off the bed.

His eyes snapped open. He yanked Sophie towards him and, with a flip, pinned her beneath him.

His dark eyes, like those of a lion roused from deep sleep, radiated a fierce, predatory light.

Sophie felt uncomfortable being pressed down. She raised her hands to his chest and pushed. "Get up."

Thomas Shannon lowered his head, biting her lips. "What’s gotten into you? Were you not satisfied last night?"

"What nonsense are you talking about!" Sophie’s small face flushed red with anger, and she growled. She was like a kitten whose tail had been stepped on, bristling with irritation.

Thomas Shannon covered her mouth with one hand, his handsome brow furrowing unhappily. "If your voice doesn’t sound good, don’t make such a fuss. It’s grating."

Sophie: "..."

She glared at him fiercely. Stupid man! How dare he complain about her!

Confirming she wouldn’t fuss anymore, Thomas Shannon released her hand and lay down beside her. With one hand covering his eyes, his voice revealed a hint of fatigue. "Be quiet. Don’t make noise."

Be quiet? Ha Ha, in his dreams!