“<b>We’ve </b><b>arrived</b><b>, </b>young master.” The butler opened the <b>car </b><b>door</b><b>, </b><b>and </b><b>boy </b><b>and </b><b>dog </b>stepped out together. Aside from a few scattered staff, the grand <b>house </b><b>felt </b><b>utterly </b>devoid of warmth or life.
“No one’sing home for dinner tonight?” The boy’s face was babyish<b>, </b><b>but </b><b>his </b>tone held a chill far beyond his years.
“Mr. and Mrs. Morton are both attending a g this evening. But your sister’s upstairs,” Mae replied, setting out his shoes by the door.
“Just bring my dinner up to my room. Rex,e.” York’s voice was t, betraying nothing. He swapped his shoes, took Rex’s leash, and headed for the stairs.
He was already in a sour mood, and it only got worse when he nearly collided with Ileanaing down from upstairs. Whatever mischief he might’ve plotted on a better day, York wasn’t interested today–he just kept walking, his dog in tow.
“At the very least, I’m still your big sister. Doesn’t that warrant a greeting?” Ileana’s annoyance was in; York’s indifference stung.
Back at the Morton family estate, Ivan would never have dared treat her like this.
York stopped and let out a derisiveugh. “You want me to call you ‘Miss Morton<b>‘ </b>and pretend you’re on my level?”
Ileana’s face fell. Her brothers had both embarrassed hertely, and she was done putting up with it.
“And Alessia actually deserves that name? Don’t forget–she’s a Morton now!” Anger shed in Ileana’s eyes. She clenched her fists, fury finally outweighing her wariness. She reached out, but York didn’t notice the threat at all.
“So what? Don’t tter yourself. Compared to Alessia, what makes you think you
measure up?”
Before York had even finished, a sharp scream shattered the silence of the mansion. A figure tumbled/down the stairs, limbs iling all the way to the marble
floor below.
Meanwhile, having seen/York off, Alessia caught the city bus to the clinic. The alleyway was as quiet as ever–even on weekends, it never really came alive.
She walked into the backyard, the old wooden door yawning open as usual. Xander was sprawled out in his favorite armchair, opera music ying from the radio. He
<b>11:54 </b>1
<b>hummed </b><b>along</b>, <b>eyes </b><b>half</b>–<b>closed</b><b>, </b><b>the </b><b>very </b><b>picture </b><b>of </b><b>contentment</b>.
<b>“</b><b>No </b><b>snacks </b><b>today</b><b>?</b><b>” </b>
<b>“</b>Well, if it isn’t you again! Am I seeing things, or did you <b>actually </b><be </b><b>by </b><b>in </b>broad <b>daylight</b>?<b>” </b>Xander sat up, teasing Alessia, though the grin tugging <b>at </b><b>his </b><b>lips </b><b>gave </b>him away.
“Just here to check on my brother,” Alessia shot back, deliberately <b>provoking </b><b>him</b>.
“Heartless kid.”
“Heartless, am I? Then maybe I’ll just give this to the others.” Alessia dangled <b>a </b>paper bag in front of him.
“What’s that?” Xander’s eyes lit up. Ever since Alessia cleared out his snack <b>stash </bst time, he’d been craving something sweet.
“My mom sent over some lemon bars–fresh out of the oven.” Alessia opened the box and set out a fork.
Xander wasted no time. He grabbed a piece, took a bite, and closed his eyes in bliss.
“These are fantastic.”
“Don’t eat them all–save some for the others,” Alessia warned.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” Xander waved her off.
“Where are the other two?” Alessia asked, but instead of leaving, she pulled up a chair to sit beside him.
“They’re in the front room.”
“And? How are they doing?”
“Not bad at all. Quick learners, polite, good with people–they’ve got promise.” Xander had already downed three lemon bars in the time it took topliment
them.
Alessia nodded; it was just as she’d expected.
“Did Cole get back?”
“He did. First thing he did was visit Ms. June.”
Xander set down his fork and let out a heavy sigh.
“The situation… isn’t looking good. But I’m sure you already know that.”
Chapter <b>125 </b>
Alessia pressed her lips together and looked down, silent.
She knew. Cole knew too. But as long as he didn’t speak the words<b>, </b>she wouldn’t force them out. People need something to hope for, after all. They all believed hard work counted for more than miracles, and they’d give every ounce they had to make things right.
But now, she found herself hoping for a miracle all the same.
“Master, here’s the order form for the new supplies. Could you take a look-? Lessie?”