Previously, he had never interfered with any of Young Master's decisions, nor did he have the right to, even that night on the Cliffside when he watched Camila Walker being thrown into the sea. He had never felt the way he did at this moment. What was happening today? Was it just because Young Madam had entrusted him with a task?
Compared to Young Madam, Young Master was his true master. There wasn't any need for this, was there?
Thinking about this, Clayton Howard's intervening hand slowly fell. He lowered his head, trying to ascertain the origin of the strange feeling in the depths of his heart.
After a glance at him, Baron Stuart calmly shifted his line of sight, the silver pistol aimed directly at Camila Walker on the hospital bed.
Clayton Howard looked up and saw her resigned-to-fate demeanor, which made the peculiarity in his heart even more profound.
Yet he couldn't understand where it came from.
