DAISY JOYCE
The soft morning light peeked through the curtains as a maid gently woke me from my sleep. Roused but still sleepy, I jumped into the bath. Just as I was getting ready, I saw Assistant Moore walking purposefully toward the garage. I quickly rushed down the stairs to catch up with him.
“But, Sir Moore,” I exclaimed, a hint of worry in my voice, “it’s way too early to leave! I haven’t even had breakfast yet!”
“It was supposed to be delayed,” he replied calmly, “but the young master’s sister is visiting today. We need everything to be perfect to avoid raising any suspicions.”
I understood the urgency but felt totally unprepared for the day ahead. With a resigned sigh, I said, “Alright, let’s get going.”
As we drove, we made a quick stop at a shop called Sim Slot, where Moore
