?Chapter 341:
“Shit. Sorry,” Dn murmured, his brow furrowing slightly. He’d only heard from Ralphy that Christina was the adopted daughter of the Jones family in Kitaso. He had no idea about the ugly,plicated history hidden beneath the surface. But judging by Christina’s raw reaction, it was clear the Jones family must’ve treated her terribly. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have cut ties. She certainly wasn’t the ungrateful type. In fact, fierce loyalty was one of her most defining and admirable traits.
“It’s really nothing,” Christina said, her faint smile not quite reaching her eyes.
“Home is wherever I am, you know? It’s not a big deal.”
She tried to y it cool, but Dn could hear a faint, almost imperceptible shadow of sadness in her voice.
“From now on,” he said, voice firm and unwavering,
“the Scott family has your back.”
Christina froze for a moment, her movements stilled, before her gaze slowly lifted to meet his. After a short, weighted silence, she finally murmured, her voice soft,
“Thanks… I really appreciate that.”
“Just know this,” Dn said, his eyes locking onto hers with serious intensity,
“if you ever run into trouble—any trouble at all—you cane straight to me. I’ll handle it. No questions asked.”
“Alright. Thank you,” Christina replied, a genuine smile finally breaking through.
With a sudden, yful grin, she plucked a plump grape from the nearby bowl and practically shoved it toward his mouth.
Dn’s reflexes kicked in like lightning, and he snagged the grape cleanly between his teeth without missing a beat.
The two of them exchanged afortable smile, and the tight, tense atmosphere that had hung in the room finally softened, easing into the quiet air.
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For the next few days, no suspicious figures appeared anywhere in their vicinity. It seemed as though the assassin organization had retreated into the shadows—gone…
Christina was about to walk past the pavilion when she noticed a considerable crowd had gathered around the area. Not wanting to force her way through the throng of people, she decided to take the quieter, less-traveled path that wound alongside it instead.
“Ha-ha! You absolutely blew it again!”
The triumphant voice, dripping with self-satisfaction, caused Christina to slow her pace. Her eyesnded on two men seated in the middle of the gathered crowd—one was an elderly man with silvery streaks woven through his hair, and the other was a middle-aged fellow who was practically howling withughter.
The one who had just spoken, his voice still ringing with glee, was the lean, middle-aged man. The elderly man, on the other hand, wore a slight frown, his face a canvas of stubborn defiance.
.
.
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