Spoiled by Mr. Russell novel Chapter 1772

“Okay!”

As the servant turned around, they heard a commotion downstairs, followed by hectic footsteps. There seemed to be more than one person, and it was rather crowded.

“Miss Rollins?” Shocked, the servant looked at Anastasia.

She was also surprised but merely waved dismissively. “Don’t panic. Let’s go check it out.”

Anastasia led the way, and when she got to the stairwell, she saw a dozen or more burly men below and heard voices.

She could tell one of the voices belonged to another servant. “Mr. Moore, Secretary Rollins would be mad if he finds out you’re misbehaving in the house.”

“Then let him come out and give me an earful!” Fabian shouted boldly. “I don’t care even if he beats me up! No matter what, I must see him. I’d like to ask him if he treats me as his family!”

“Miss…” The servant beside her whispered.

Anastasia stopped her by raising a hand, then went downstairs. “I was wondering who was making a ruckus. It turns out to be you, Uncle Fabian.”

Her voice drew everyone’s attention, and the men looked toward the stairs.

As if seeing his savior, the servant downstairs rushed over, wiping his sweat. “Miss, Mr. Moore refused to listen and barged in. We really couldn’t stop-”

“Leave us! He’s not an outsider, but my dear uncle,” Anastasia said casually, and she signaled the servants to leave with her eyes.

Anastasia assumed Fabian had come to question their absence after seeing his red face and angry expression.

‘But why is he angry? Is it a crime not to go to Rhea’s funeral? She nearly killed me! Even if I knew that her funeral would be held today, it was reasonable that I chose not to go.’

Anastasia bent over to pour Fabian a glass of water as she contemplated the situation. “Things have gotten a bit chaotic at home, and I truly didn’t know her funeral was today. Anyway… I’m sorry for your loss.”

She handed the glass over.

Fabian looked at her and at the glass. The white wine he had consumed before coming here had inebriated him, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. When he saw his niece, whom he had doted on since she was a little girl, looking completely unconcerned, he became furious. He thought about his wife passing out and his only daughter being buried in that cold grave.

Fabian slapped the glass off her hand, rose to his feet, and pointed at her nose. “Stop wasting my time! Where’s your father?!”