The living room was so silent that not a single sound could be heard.
Mason Nightshade held his phone in both hands, staring at it without blinking. Half an hour had passed, and the servants silently wondered if the young master was lost in thought. Otherwise, how could someone sit there unmoving for half an hour?
The butler hesitated whether to go over and ask a question.
Suddenly, Mason Nightshade stood up, grabbed his coat, draped it over his shoulders, and walked out. As he passed by the dining room, he paused, glanced into the kitchen—a few untouched plates of leftovers on the counter caught his eye. They looked familiar, suddenly reminding him of the dishes from the table last night.
Did she not have dinner last night?
Mason Nightshade's heart ached with a sudden pang of heartache.
