?Chapter 1665:


    The orchard was thriving. The trees were heavy with ripe, juicy fruit, their colors vibrant under the sunlight.


    She plucked a pear from a low-hanging branch, taking a bite as she strolled deeper into the grove. Her steps were quick, light, and purposeful.


    The servants, ustomed to maintaining the grand halls of the manor rather than trekking through the orchard, struggled to keep up.


    “Miss Norris, please slow down!” they called out, panting behind her.


    But Alfy acted as though she hadn’t heard them. She quickened her pace, moving farther and faster—until the servants were out of sight. Then, without hesitation, she changed direction.


    She had been preparing for this moment for a long time. She had studied every corner of the manor, every weak spot in its security.


    There was a small hole in the fence, an area without surveince cameras. It was her only way out. Alfy had checked it before, and she was small enough to fit through.


    Without looking back, she made her way toward her escape. And just like that, she vanished from the manor.


    About half an hourter, Bernie sat at the dining table, his expression darkening as he stared at the empty chair. “Where’s Alfy?”


    The servants standing nearby shifted uneasily, their faces pale with fear. No one dared to meet Bernie’s gaze, their heads bowed in silence. Bernie mmed his hand against the table. “Where is she?”


    The sharp sound echoed through the room, making the servants tremble. They immediately dropped to their knees in desperation. “Miss Norris… she—she’s gone!”


    By the time they finished speaking, their voices were barely more than choked sobs, their bodies shaking uncontrobly.


    Bernie’s face turned as dark as a storm cloud. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint as he red at them, his patience razor-thin. He abruptly rose from his seat. “Deal with them. I have no use for failures.”


    His voice was calm—too calm. But beneath that eerie stillness was a deadly edge.


    The servants’ faces drained of all color. Their pleas tumbled over one another. “Earl Norris, please! We know we were wrong!” “Have mercy! Miss Norris ran away through the orchard—” “We followed her, but—”


    Before thest servant could finish, a deafening bang filled the air. Bernie had pulled out his gun. A lifeless body hit the floor.


    The remaining servants mped their mouths shut, swallowing their cries, afraid that the next bullet would be for them.


    A group of bodyguards stepped in, dragging the terrified servants out. What awaited them was a fate none would dare to speak of.


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