?<strong>Chapter 845:</strong>


    At the time, my family was struggling. My elderly parents needed medical treatment in Isonridge, and I didn’t know what to do. Mr. Webster rented this shop for us, which has a small house attached to the back. Because of him, our family finally has a home in this expensive city.”


    Every word carried deep gratitude. “We’re simple folks; we don’t know how to say fancy things. But our family and our neighbors all say—Mr. Webster is the best person we’ve ever met. Any woman who marries a man like him would be incredibly lucky.”


    As she said thest sentence, she cast a meaningful nce at Carrie, clearly hoping thetter would recognize Kyson’s kindness.


    But Carrie was too busy examining the store to notice.


    She totally couldn’t understand why Kyson would rent this ce.


    The ce was tiny, no bigger than a small bedroom. The fruit prices weren’t high, and the location was in an empty alley with no foot traffic. It didn’t make sense. Why rent this ce?


    Kyson saw her confusion immediately and chuckled. “You’re wondering why I rented this store, aren’t you? You think it’s in a bad location, with no customers, and that it’s just a money-losing deal, right?”


    Carrie smiled sheepishly and nodded. “So… why?”


    Kyson picked through the apples, his tone unhurried. “This is one of my family’s properties that was just sitting idle—not really worth muchmercially. Since I’m not the head of my family, I don’t have ess to the high-value properties anyway.”


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    The implication was clear: the house had no significantmercial use, so letting someone use it as a store wasn’t a big deal. He filled a bag with apples and turned toward Carrie. “Could you hand me another stic bag?”


    “Oh, sure.” Carrie, who had been listening intently, paused for a second before reacting. She turned, tore off another stic bag, and handed it to Kyson.


    Their fingers brushed against each other. For a fleeting moment, Kyson’s gaze lingered.


    Her skin was soft, delicate.


    Then, in the next second, he looked away as if nothing had happened, taking the bag and continuing in a calm voice, “There’s a nursing home just up ahead. Most of the residents are long-time locals of Isonridge, and they buy their fruit from here.


    This alley used to be a residential area for institutions—our school staff, hospital workers. Right now, it’s lunchtime, so it’s quiet, but normally, quite a few neighborse by to shop.”


    The elderly weren’t interested in expensive imported fruit with perfect appearances. They cared more about taste, quality, and supporting theirmunity. Besides, old Isonridge families were usually well-off and valued loyalty over bargaining for a few cents.


    The woman chimed in, “The hospital is just behind this alley, a five-minute walk for my elders. And there’s a university nearby too. Mr. Webster even helped my son get a guest pass, so he can sit in on sses and learn a lot.”


    Her son, struggling to speak but eager to share, added, “I learned how… how to use aputer. Now I can type!”


    Carrie was surprised. She hadn’t expected Kyson to be so thorough in his kindness—helping in ways that made a real difference.


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