Butler Santana had cleaned the Cheney Residence thoroughly, and when Jasmine Yale walked into the living room, she felt a wave of disorientation.
The familiar scent of chamomile hung in the air, but Sylvan Cheney's shoes were nowhere to be seen on the shoe rack.
Without reason, panic surged through her, and she grabbed Butler Santana's sleeve: "Sylvan's shoes, where are his shoes... he will come back, right..."
Sylvan Cheney's belongings had all been put away by Butler Santana, for fear that Jasmine Yale would feel emotional pain upon seeing them.
Unexpectedly, Jasmine Yale still asked as soon as she returned.
"Miss Yale, I just tidied up the shoe rack, so I put them away..."
"Go get them, he might come back tonight," Jasmine Yale urged anxiously.
"Alright, alright, I'll go right now."
Butler Santana couldn't say no to Jasmine Yale and secretly placed all of Sylvan Cheney's clothes back in the wardrobe.
She had overthought it.
