She Became Rich After Divorce by Georgina Lane

Chapter 362: Light The female teacher tried to persuade him to wait inside the security booth where it was warmer, and there was a heater, but Kelvin was afraid that his mommy would come, and he wouldn't see her if he stayed there.

He stubbornly shook his head and refused to provide any other family member's phone number. The teacher had no choice but to keep him company for another half an hour.

Winter nights arrived early, and before 6 o'clock, the sky had already darkened. The snowflakes continued to fall gently, covering the roads, buildings, and trees in a white blanket. The entire world seemed to have fallen asleep.

Tpassed slowly, and as the minutes ticked by, it felt excruciatingly slow. Just when the teacher felt her hands were no longer her own, she suddenly heard Kelvin sneeze.

It jolted her out of her drowsiness, and she moved her somewhat stiff neck, looking down at the drowsy boy. She gently patted his shoulder to wake him. 'Kelvin, you can't sleep. You'll catch a cold. Wake up...' Hearing the teacher's call, Kelvin slowly opened his sleepy eyes. A gust of cold wind blew, and the snowflakes stung his face like blades. It was both cold and painful.

His voice, tinged with drowsiness, asked the teacher, 'Miss Wiggins, what tis it now?' She lowered her gaze to her wristwatch and replied somewhat helplessly, 'It's already 6:17.' Your mommy might... not be coming.

The boy remained silent, but his tightly pursed lips revealed his emotions. The teacher gave a bitter smile and tried to comfort him.

'Kelvin, perhaps your mommy is just too busy. How about you givethe phone number of someone else at home? I'll go to the office and make a call for you.' At this time, mobile phones weren't common yet, and only wealthy people had a set of Motorola or Nokia phones, but they were nothing like the advanced smartphones of the future. The teacher had just graduated and had been working for less than half a year, living paycheck to paycheck. She couldn't afford a personal phone. However, there was a landline phone in her office, making it relatively convenient to make calls.

Kelvin declined the teacher's kind offer and took a deep breath of the cold air.

'No need, thank you, Miss Wiggins.' With that, he turned and started walking toward the school gate. After standing for two hours, the snow had soaked his shoes and socks, leaving his feet cold, numb, and devoid of sensation.

Calling it walking would be an exaggeration; it was more like a slow, shuffling movement, each step taken with difficulty, resembling an octogenarian.

The female teacher watched his stubborn departure, blurred by the night. She couldn't help but feel a lump in her throat and hurriedly caught up with him.

'Do you have money? Lettake you to catch a bus...' Kelvin nodded solemnly and bowed to her at a 90-degree angle. 'Thank you, Miss Wiggins. I have money.' She seemed to believe him and handed the umbrella to Kelvin. 'Then be careful on your own. You can keep this umbrella, and return it tonext semester.' With the heavy snowfall, there was still quite a distance from the school gate to the bus stop, several hundred meters at least. Kelvin nodded, suppressing the emotions and sadness in his heart, and took the umbrella, preparing to leave.

His small figure walked alone in the vast winter night and snow.

The female teacher, seemingly still behind him, let out a soft sigh, 'Why is this child so stubborn?' On such a cold day, even if he took the bus, it would be challenging. Why not let his family cto pick him up? Kelvin stumbled for a moment, and a voice in his heart responded to the teacher's words. It wasn't that he didn't want to provide a phone number, but he knew that making that call would be futile. Once that woman started painting, she would be completely engrossed and wouldn't answer any external calls. She would even disconnect the phone line to her stuto avoid distractions. Sometimes, she could continue like that for two or three days without coming downstairs. She would have her meals left at the door by the servants.

In fact, Kelvin had lied to the female teacher about another thing - he didn't have any money. He had thrown all the money he had in the morning into the bus fare.

With no money, he could only choose to walk.

From the school to the villa, the distance one would normally cover by bus would take about twenty minutes. However, on this journey, Kelvin walked for nearly an hour, his steps slow and labored. By the the was approaching home, he could hardly remember how he had endured this journey. Despite having an umbrella, his hands and feet felt like frozen meat, completely numb.

When he stood in front of the mansion, gazing at the dark, lightless building, Kelvin's heart was filled with deep disappointment. He tremblingly reached out and pushed open the front door.

Creak...

The faint, low, and hoarse sound was like an old person's cough, echoing in the darkness. Outside, the night had turned pitch black, and there was no warmth to be felt from the unlit house. It felt like falling from one icy pit into another.

But at this moment, he lifted his head and looked at the second floor. At the end of the corridor... only one room was lit.

That was her art studio.

When she was in a good mood, she would let him in, hold his hand, and teach him how to paint, telling him that colors were the most beautiful things in the world.

They formed the colorful world around him.

When she was in a bad mood, if Kelvin entered that art studio, he would be greeted with flying paint palettes or sheets of paper, with the woman roaring at him, pointing at the door, and angrily ordering him to get out.

On normal days, Kelvin knew that when she was painting, he shouldn't disturb her. But now, he decided to go upstairs.

He wanted to confront her. Was this the reason she forgot to pick him up from school? If she couldn't do it, she shouldn't have said it in the first place. Why give him false hope...

He left the umbrella in the hallway, and the snowflakes on it immediately melted, wetting the exotic red woven carpet with intricate patterns. It was something she had bought while sketching in Nepal, and it was one of her favorite possessions.

The young boy silently and slowly ascended to the second floor, at approaching the last room at the end of the hallway. The door was not completely closed, revealing a crack. Dim candlelight from inside spilled through the gap, forming a right-angle reflection at the doorstep, casting onto his feet.

As he gently placed his cold hand on the door frand glanced inside the room, what he saw show madechishn pupils dilate in shock. The white walls reflected the silhouette of a woman, her black shadow elongated as she held a knife in her hand, meticulously cutting into something in front of her. Her movements were slow, an inexplicable grace in every gesture. Kelvin's gaze shifted to the other shadows on the wall, and he saw a figure bound to a chair...

The flickering light of the irregular candlelight lit up the blood onto the floor at his feet.

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