?Chapter 1042:


    Maia gently epted the handshake. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Maia Watson.”


    Royce Adams released her hand. “What are you hoping to learn? Ask openly, and I’ll share whatever I know.”


    “I wish to understand what sort of person my father truly was.” Maia thought for a moment and added, “And did hee often because things at home frequently broke down?”<fn093f> Fresh chapters posted on fin?novel</fn093f>


    Kathie joined in, “Royce, can you recall all those visits Mr. Watson made to your shop? What did he fix when your father was present?”


    “There were plenty!” Royce answered, his eyes narrowing as memory surfaced, his chin resting on his palm. “Mr. Watson could mend practically anything. Without his help, my dad couldn’t have repaired so much for the neighborhood.”


    “Helping? Repairing?” Maia asked, bewildered. “Didn’t hee to get things repaired by your father?”


    Royce lifted his shoulders. “From what I recall, the first time Mr. Watson arrived was with a watch. My dad spent forever on it and failed. Then Mr. Watson stepped in and solved it in moments. Honestly, as a child, he became a hero. He fixed televisions, radios, watches,puters—every odd device you can imagine. Nothing was too challenging for him. While working, he exined the methods to my dad. I didn’t grasp the details back then, but I thought he was extraordinary, since nothing stayed broken in his hands.”


    Kathie cut in, “Truly? I always thought he wasing for your dad to handle repairs, not that he was actually capable himself.”


    “You misunderstood, Kathie. My dad could manage minor faults, but anything moreplex exceeded him. Around here, in a poorer area, people brought discarded items that already had problems. Many came withbels in foreignnguages. Without Mr. Watson’s trantions, my dad couldn’t even read them, let alone repair them.”


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    Royce gave a shortugh, spreading his palms wide. “Truth is, my dad fooled everyone. It was always Mr. Watson doing the real work. One day, I finally asked how manynguages he could speak. Want to guess?”


    Chris thought briefly and lifted three fingers. “Three?”


    “Too low.” Royce shook his head. “Try higher.”


    Maia arched a brow and raised four fingers. “Four, maybe?”


    “Still low,” Royce chuckled. “You can guess higher. Honestly, that’s why I admired Mr. Watson so much. He was remarkable.”


    “Stop dragging it out,” Kathie urged impatiently, knowing this mattered to Maia. “How many? Say it!”


    “Eight,” Royce said with a grin. “Mr. Watson told me he knew eightnguages.”


    Kathie gasped, her lips parting in shock. “I never imagined Maia’s father had that gift.”


    Maia’s hand tightened slightly, her thoughts weaving together faint fragments of her father.


    She remembered the Shakespeare her father had written down, the skill he had with repairs, and now his knowledge of eightnguages. Why would a man with such gifts choose to remain in the slums? Surely her father could have built a far better life.


    Did circumstances force her parents into hiding here?


    Maia remained silent, unsettled by the thought that her parents’ decision to live in the slums seemed utterly misced.


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