"If someone can't do their job well, they deserve to be fired," Treadwell said coldly, his tone firm like a gavel striking down.
"But why are you asking us this?" Willy asked, puzzled.
Abby gave a small sigh, her eyes flicking away. "Oh, never mind. I don't want to bother you with my complaints again. You said you were tired. Maybe next time." She smiled lightly, but the glint in her eyes betrayed her real intention.
The three men perked up immediately. They were known in the estate for their appetite for gossip, and Abby knew exactly how to bait them.
"Eh? No no, Mrs. Peterson, you can't stop halfway. If you start, you must finish," Timothy insisted eagerly.
Abby didn't reply, only turned to look at the woman beside her. May stepped forward, her expression calm yet full of hidden thorns.
"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce myself properly. I'm Maybelline Willard… the mother of your new mistress. The wife of Mr. Osvaldo Adkins."
