Chapter 445 Brat


    Flushent


    Before Isabelle could reply, the little boy sensed a shift and turned to find George’s solemn face.


    Fear and confusion instantly gripped the boy.


    George, usually gentle and refined, spoke with a touch of spite, “You’ll never be richer than me<b>.</b>”


    He articted each word in Egnaric, his tone sharp.


    The boy remained silent, feeling distinctly ufortable.


    ncing at Isabelle on the bed, she seemed on the verge ofughter but restrained. herself.


    In hindsight, George realized his pettiness was uncalled for.


    Despite this, the trio continued to live harmoniously in the small house, their possessions gradually increasing over time.


    The boy was naive and, thanks to that, bold. He expressed his love for Isabelle even though George was around.


    Each day, he made a lengthy trek to procure Isabelle’s favorite chocte biscuits and fresh mineral water. Then,e bedtime, he entertained her with rambling tales.


    That night, George advised him to turn in early.


    Realizing he’d been chatty and likely annoyed George, the boy sat up, his view only the undersides of the beds.


    “Sorry,” he said. “As a kid, I’d gab away with my folks before bed, always sleeping between them.”


    Turning to Isabelle, hemented, “Things would be simpler if you were a bit older.”


    Isabelle quipped back, “You want <b>to </b>call me Mom or something?”


    Tha hou managed


    uumed smil. “I’m off ta had Pandnight to usu hath


    Firstrand


    Just as he was about to leave, his friend showed up, eager for another round of y.


    “I’ll catch up with you guyster,” the boy bid his friends farewell.


    Unable to evade them, he quickly returned to whisper to Isabelle, “I need to get them some food, or they’ll start to wonder.”


    “And I’ll bring back chocte cookies for you,” he added before darting off.


    As he left, the sky rapidly darkened.


    Having scoured the garbage dump all day with his friends, the boy swiftly bought chocte cookies for Isabelle.


    Under the cloak of night, he hurried back, hiding the cookies in his clothes and carrying two mismatched shoes in his hands.


    Barefoot but determined, he looked forward to sharing the cookies with Isabelleter, a sense of satisfaction warming his heart.


    Lost in his reverie, he collided with someone, causing him to stagger backward. and plop onto the ground.


    Apologizing profusely, he quickly retrieved the dropped chocte cookies, brushing off any dirt.


    When he looked up, he found himself face to face with an Ardon man dressed entirely in ck.


    The man’s eyes zeroed in on the chocte cookies in the boy’s hands.


    In the distance, there was affluence, but beneath himy destion.


    The slum was engulfed in the long night. Despite the crowded streets, only a few lights dotted the area, signaling that most had retired for the evening.


    The narrow, dpidated alleys were littered with debris, and the fetid stench of urine and feces hung heavy in the air.


    Trudging along in his mismatched shoes, the boy made his way past each dwelling, clutching the two chocte cookies he had bought from the market tightly in his clean hands.


    2/4


    * Finish &


    All of a sudden, one of his shoes slipped off, forcing him toe to a sudden <b>stop</b>,


    He wasn’t about to lose this pair of hard–earned shoes.


    So, he halted, reached back with his small foot, and retrieved the shoe, casting <b>at </b>nervous nce behind him.


    Upon noticing the weapon in the man’s hand, he squeezed his chocte cookie tighter, feeling a wave of fear wash over him.


    Continuing on, he dragged his shoe along the path.


    Footfalls echoed behind him, the long shadow of the tall figure trailing alongside.


    The man’s looming silhouette cast the boy into darkness, enveloping him as he moved forward. Despite the asional murmurs from nearby houses, the surroundings remained eerily quiet.


    Yet, throughout his journey, he didn’t run into a single soul.


    The shadow doggedly stayed to his right…


    Meanwhile, in the small house, George gently washed Isabelle’s feet, his gaze lingering on her now slender face, a pang of sadness tugging at his heart.


    “Tomorrow, I’ll get that little rascal to fetch some meat for soup. It’ll give you a boost,” George suggested.


    Isabelle didn’t even spare him a nce. <i>Eh</i>, <i>save </i>it.


    George caught her silence, his tone gentle like a child’s, his face lit up with a smile. “I bet it’ll be even better than that chicken soup we had the other day.”


    Isabelle nced at him briefly.


    George pressed on, “Are you nning to keep that little troublemaker around?”


    “Does he have anywhere else to go?” Isabelle asked.


    “Yes, but it depends on your opinion,” said George.


    Giving him a half–smile, Isabelle asked, “What’s the conspiracy this time?”


    3/4


    George confessed, “This little troublemaker might be young, but he’s got big dreams<b>. </b>Give him another three or four years, and he’ll be raring to go.”


    The little troublemaker was already doing his best to win Isabelle over.


    I spend <i>my </i><i>money </i>keeping him <i>around</i><i>, </i>feeding <i>him</i>, clothing him<i>, </i><i>and </i>giving him


    education.


    <i>He </i><i>takes </i>everything I give <i>him </i><i>only </i>to bide his <i>time</i>, waiting <i>for </i>Isabelle to break up with me so he can <i>slither </i>in.Content from N?velDr(a)ma.Org.