Thomas Shannon lifted his foot and kicked her to the ground.
Minimus Hart covered her chest with one hand, feeling a dull pain. She struggled to get up and knelt beside Thomas Shannon’s feet.
"Young Master, I really don’t know what you are referring to. If I have done something wrong, I am willing to accept punishment."
"Minimus Hart." Thomas Shannon stared at her with cold eyes.
Minimus Hart replied fearfully, "Here."
"Have I given you too much power that you have forgotten your own identity?"
Forgotten her own identity?
Minimus Hart nervously denied, "No, Young Master, I always remember my identity as a slave, always ready to serve you!"
"A slave died in the manor. Have you reported it?"
Minimus Hart’s face remained calm, with not even a hint of tension in her eyes. "Young Master, I am already handling the aftermath. The detailed report on the incident is not yet complete. I planned to finish it before reporting to you. I didn’t expect you to know about it first."
The man’s long leg lashed out, sending Minimus Hart flying.
She fell heavily to the ground, coughing up blood.
Blood trickled down from the corner of her mouth.
Without bothering to wipe the blood, Minimus Hart crawled back and knelt down again. "I failed in my duty and did not report to you immediately. Please punish me, Young Master."
Charlie River stepped forward. "Young Master, please instruct."
Without hearing about her punishment, Minimus Hart panicked. Before she could ask more questions, she was dragged away by Charlie River.
After extinguishing the cigarette butt, Thomas Shannon turned and left the study room.
Harry, who had returned in a wild frenzy, tore down the corridor and pounced toward him.
Thomas Shannon dodged, and Harry missed his target.
Falling to the ground, Harry yowled repeatedly in distress.
Harry climbed up from the ground, looking dejected. His tail drooped, and he followed Thomas Shannon step by step.
In the bedroom, the maniac was not found.
Thomas Shannon called a servant. "Where is the maniac?"
"Young Master, the maniac went to the medical office; the doctor called for her."
Nodding slightly, Thomas Shannon, in an uncharacteristic show of kindness, picked up Harry and went downstairs.
In the medical office, Sophie Sullivan lay on the examination table, allowing the doctor to examine her throat with various instruments.
"Is there any discomfort here?"
Sophie waved her hand, indicating no.
The doctor nodded and pressed another place with the instrument. "How about here? Do you feel pain?"
Sophie blinked, and the doctor’s expression grew more serious. He put away the instruments and turned off the lamp.
"Have you been taking the medicine I prescribed for you on time?"
Sophie sat up, covering her neck with one hand. After suppressing the discomfort, she said, "Sometimes I didn’t take it on time, but I have been taking it regularly these days."
Even taking the medicine on time didn’t seem to bring much improvement. Her throat remained just as hoarse, showing no sign of improvement.
"’Don’t be mistaken. Your throat condition is quite tricky; it’s not something that a few days of medicine can cure,’ the doctor explained calmly, seeing her skeptical expression. ’The medicine offers only temporary relief. You must have surgery to repair your vocal cords. Otherwise, recovery is impossible.’"
Sophie couldn’t wait to get her voice back. "When can I have surgery?"
"Now is not the best time. I will give you a new prescription. Remember to take it on time."
The doctor sat down and began writing the prescription. "Take this for a few days. We’ll wait until the time is right."