Nevertheless, his appreciation for these small tokens had not diminished his scrutiny of Jimena. Indeed, as someone raised by Davey, adherence to their duties was almost a religious conviction. Yet, unbeknownst to him, his attitude toward Jimena had significantly softened.

When emotions came into play, mistakes were inevitable, just as they were now, when the butler should have refrained from speaking.

The butler felt an urge to slap himself. Bowing his head respectfully, he stated, "Mr. Glyn, I will attend to it immediately. Dr. Hinks's records will be disposed of along with her termination.”

Davey withdrew his gaze, a faint smile on his lips. “I almost thought I might need to find a replacement for a butler, too."

Though his tone hinted at the jest, the butler understood the seriousness beneath. The word "replace" hinted at a brush with peril!

Thankful for regaining his composure swiftly, he had salvaged his own life.

Every fiber of the butler's being quivered with the lingering fear.

Davey turned around, instructing, "Make sure to handle it properly this time."

“Yes, Mr. Glyn!" the butler replied, his voice firm and resolute.

Only after Davey had disappeared from his sight did the butler's tense muscles finally relax, beads of sweat dripping dramatically from his forehead to the floor. He had been utterly terrified as if he had traversed the very gates of hell and emerged intact.

Davey's implications were unmistakable. Jimena had made a mistake. A grievous mistake indeed!

The butler sighed, a pang of compassion flickering briefly for Jimena, one he presumed remarkable, though it remained mere sympathy.

He dreaded the prospect of sleepless nights looming ahead.

Contemplating the final traces of scented candles remaining in his quarters, he resolved to preserve it and seek professional advice on its composition, aiming to recreate it.

Davey entered Casey's room to find her seated on the bed, gazing out the window, lost in contemplation.

Outside, the begonias were in full bloom, their vibrant hues of orange, peach, pink, and white creating a stunning display.

Maintaining such flowers in the basement presented challenges, but Davey was aware of Casey's affinity for vibrant blossoms. Among his cultivated flowers, begonias boasted the Longest blooming period, flourishing nearly year-round with a peak during the winter months.

However, begonias were delicate. They demanded precise conditions of light and soil moisture. Sustaining them underground required meticulous control of diffused light and ventilation.

Davey had invested considerable effort and enlisted specialists to ensure these flowers thrived. Even during relocations, he took great care to preserve and nurture these plants, ensuring they continued to flourish.

He pondered the devastation of those ruined basements, the delicate begonias within them, such demanding plants, yet so susceptible to ruin. Much like Casey. A fragile and refined woman, vulnerable to devastation with the mere twitch of his hand.