Chapter 312
“The boy’s parentage is highly questionable. Who’s to say whose child he really is?”noveldrama
“Shh! Keep your voice down! If anyone hears us, we’d be in big trouble!”
“Please, what’s there to be afraid of? That boy is a bastard. Did they really expect us to treat him like the young master of this estate?”
“She’s right. And who’s to say that woman didn’t use some ploy to trick Mr. Wall into her clutches? Why else would he be so obsessed with her?”
Sadie stopped in her tracks, her brows furrowing tightly.
It seemed that the new servants knew nothing about her relationship with Noah. She continued down the stairs and called out, “What are you guys talking about?”
Although her voice was calm, it carried an unmistakable hint of authority. The maids immediately shut their mouths and turned in her direction. When they saw that it was Sadie, they didn’t seem all too worried.
“Miss Hudson, we—” one started to say, only to be interrupted by another servant.
“What business is it of yours? You’re nothing but a fraud, anyway. Did you actually think you’re the mistress of this house?”
Sadie’s face turned grim. She was just about to give the impertinent maid a piece of her mind when a male voice boomed from behind her.
“What’s going on here?”
Noah appeared at the doorway, with the butler closely trailing behind him, his expression anxious.
The maids fell silent, and this time, they looked genuinely nervous.
The butler quickly stepped forward. “I will handle this right away, Mr. Wall.”
Noah swept a cold glance over the maids. “I don’t like gossipers in my house. Fire every single one of them.”
Then he turned to Sadie, his eyes deep and unreadable.
Sadie didn’t know what to make of it. She could barely process what had just happened.
Was Noah actually defending her?
Dinner was soon served. The table was laden with a variety of dishes in exquisite porcelain plates, their mouthwatering aroma filling the dining hall.
Averi sat in his high chair with a small bowl of mashed potatoes and a plate of diced chicken in front of him. He poked at the food with his spoon, his chubby little face tight with displeasure.
“Mom, this doesn’t taste good,” he complained, pouting as he set his spoon down.
Averi wrinkled his nose.
Sadie reached out and stroked his hair. “Sweetheart, try to eat a little, okay? The cook made this just for you.”
“I don’t want it…” Averi pouted. “I want fried chicken and fries.”
Sitting at the center of the table, Noah watched the interaction between mother and son in silence.
Averi’s words made his brows furrow. “The kitchen here at Myrtlewood doesn’t serve unhealthy snacks.”
Averi’s small body shuddered. He looked down at his fingers, his expression pitiful, and didn’t dare to make another sound.
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