"Young Master, I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier, but I was really scared of the Madam."
"Miss Yates was already unconscious when she left..."
Having hung up the phone, Maxwell Saxon slowly turned around.
Uncle Thompson looked at his suddenly darkened face, paused, and then, as usual, asked concernedly, "Young Master, what happened?"
Maxwell Saxon's face rarely looked so troubled.
His complexion turned pale in an instant, yet extremely somber; his gaze reached the peak of coldness.
His eyes, devoid of any warmth, coldly looked at Uncle Thompson. Even before he spoke, his razor-sharp gaze had already exerted immense pressure on Uncle Thompson.
Maxwell Saxon had never looked at him with such discourtesy and coldness before.
Though their relationship was that of master and servant, Maxwell still respected him as an elder.
But now, his young master was looking at him as though he were a foe.
