There was knocking of oxfords on the floor; it was none other than Rod who was walking furiously into the father’s mansion. He bumped into servants, gave them cold shoulders and never responded to pleasantries. The handwriting was already on the wall; servants knew whenever Rod gave them the cold shoulders someone had gotten on his nerves.
James Benson was relaxed to his tray of beer at the pool side while he got a massage from one of his spar professionals.
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