The Butler’s Lighting
READING AGE 18+
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For forty years, Alfred Pennyworth had relied on a leather-bound ledger, a fountain pen, and an impeccable memory to manage the chaos of Wayne Manor. Today, however, his greatest adversary was a sleek silver tablet resting on the kitchen counter.
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For a long moment, the only sound in the east wing corridor was the steady, rhythmic thumping of Ace’s tail against the polished hardwood floor. The old dog leaned heavily against Billy’s knees, whimpering softly as he sniffed the singed fabric of the boy’s red jacket. Alfred did not move from the top of the stairs. He simply looked over the rim……
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