Chapter 815

The next morning, everyone gathered around the breakfast table. Chandler was in high spirits, savoring his meal at a relaxed pace. His tranquility stemmed mainly from Shawn, who sat directly across from him. Shawn was wrapped in a thick blanket, his neck concealed within its folds. Despite sitting near the fireplace, he continued to shiver uncontrollably. As he tried to eat his cereal with a spoon, his hands trembled incessantly, resembling the tremors often associated with Parkinson's disease. Halfway through the meal, a man abruptly burst through the front door and stood confidently next to the dining table. He posed like a model, showing off his expensive suit. Helen briefly glanced at him but remained silent. "And who might you be?" Melody scrutinized his face for a moment, finding it hard to believe. "Ambrose?" "Yes, Mrs. Boston," Ambrose replied with a respectful bow, his deferential manner confirming his identity. Normally, Ambrose was clad in worn-out camouflage attire,