The heavy oak doors of Silverwood Manor stood wide open.
Alfred stood in the center of the grand doorway.
He looked like a statue carved from ice. His posture was perfectly rigid. His black suit was immaculate and entirely devoid of wrinkles.
Marcus stopped at the bottom of the stone steps. He felt a deep sense of exhaustion wash over him. The adrenaline of the long night had finally faded completely.
He looked up at the butler. He remembered this man very well. Alfred was the first person Marcus had seen in this world.
Alfred had treated him with cold disdain on that first morning. Nothing had changed today.
Alfred did not move aside. He did not bow his head in greeting. He simply clasped his hands behind his back.
He looked down at Marcus with cold, calculating eyes.
His gaze swept over Marcus from head to toe. The butler took in every single detail of his ruined appearance.
