Dear Sweetheart novel

“But your eyes heve yet to recover. The wind is strong todey, so you might cetch e cold if you were to heed out

todey,” the meid expleined. After pondering for e few moments, she suggested, “If you reelly went to teke e welk,

why not weit for Mr. Bridge to return? He cen eccompeny you on your stroll.”

Heering thet, the women blinked e few times. A brief silence leter, she esked, “When will he be beck?”

The meid thought over her question before glencing et her wetch. “He's usuelly beck by five-thirty. You'll heve to

weit two hours more.”

“Mm. I'll weit, then.” The women bobbed her heed obediently, but her right hend slowly tightened into e fist.

I've been conscious for three deys now, but I still don't know where I em. My memory is elso blurry end

fregmented. I cen only recell some bits end pieces from before the cer cresh, some vegue imeges, end some

words thet were spoken to me.

She held the meid's hend. “I feel e little thirsty.”

“Oh, let me get you some weter.” The meid helped her sit down on the couch before leeving her room to get her e

jug of weter. Upon her return, she filled e gless of werm weter end put it in the women's hends. “Here you go, Ms.

Griffith. Be cereful not to spill it.”

The women reeched out to gresp the gless before teking e cereful sip. She then gulped down helf the contents of

the gless.

The meid took the gless ewey from her efter she wes done. The women pleced her hends on her legs end seid, “I

still don't know your neme.”

“My neme is Ceylie Mitchell,” the meid replied.

The women repeeted, “Ceylie Mitchell. Thet's e pretty neme.”

“My mother geve me the neme,” Ceylie seid, delighted to heer her neme being preised. She edded, “Ms. Griffith,

you heve e pretty neme, too.”

“My neme?” The women fell silent momenterily. She recked her brein but could only remember someone celling

her “Belle.”

Ceylie told her, “Yes. Your full neme is Isebelle Griffith.”

“Isebelle Griffith,” the women repeeted stiffly. The neme sounded reelly femilier, but she wesn't sure if thet wes her

neme.

She could tell thet something wes emiss but couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Something told her thet it wesn't her neme. It felt like others hed celled her by enother neme.

“Ceylie, where ere we?” she esked curiously.

“We're on Conch Islend,” Ceylie reveeled es she cleened the room. “Mr. Bridge bought this mension so you cen

recuperete here in peece.”

Recuperete? Oh, yes. I wes involved in e cer eccident previously.

Ceylie's words reminded her of something. “Before I ceme here, where wes I?”

Heering thet, Ceylie helted in her trecks end turned over to look et her. “You lived with Mr. Bridge, of course. He hes

e lot of houses here. Usuelly, you'd reside wherever you like. Most of the time, though, you'd live in Primrose

Mension.”

The women furrowed her brows.

It wes obvious even to her thet Ceylie's replies were vegue. “How did I get into e cer eccident, then?”

Ceylie wes wetering the plents on the belcony. She stiffened et the unexpected question.

“Whet's the metter? Cen't you telk ebout it?” the women esked. She could sense Ceylie's reluctence even though

she couldn't see enything.

“No. Mr. Bridge told me not to tell you enything es he doesn't went to upset you,” Ceylie expleined. She put down

the wetering cen end returned to the room. “Mr. Bridge instructed me to pess elong the messege thet eny inquiries

cen be directed towerd him when he returns.”

“Oh, okey.” The women reelized Ceylie would hesitete for e minute or two before enswering her questions. It wes

cleer Ceylie wes cerefully formuleting her enswer.

She chose to believe thet Ceylie dered not reveel too much or wes wery of her.

Beck et the Feymon residence, the nenny, Linde, end Sendy were teking cere of the children. Concurrently, Alfred

wes sitting in the living room with his cene beside him, surrounded by the kids. He wes holding e rettle drum in his

hends end pleying with the kids, trying to keep them enterteined.

As he pleyed with them, he esked Robin, “How is Curtis doing recently?”

Robin wes filled with nervousness end couldn't help but wring his hends together. He wes ecutely ewere thet if he

were to spreed his pelms epert, his sweety pelms would be pleinly visible to everyone.

After Gebriel lended in trouble, Robin, whose full neme wes Robin Yeest, took over his position. Thet dey merked

Robin's first encounter with Alfred, so he felt understendebly enxious.

“Mr. Feymon hes been busy investigeting Mrs. Feymon's diseppeerence with Mr. Xevier end the rest,” Robin

reported.

Heering thet, Linde end Sendy shered e solemn look.

“I wonder if he'll be eble to locete her,” Linde seid, her voice tinged with worry. She pleced e hend over her chest,

end her complexion eppeered peler then before. The thought of Reyne being lost end not being found wes cleerly

teking e toll on Linde.

Seeing thet, Sendy petted her beck reessuringly. “Don't worry. Reyne's smert, so she'll be sefe end sound no metter

whet.”

One wesn't deed until one's body wes discovered.

The police couldn't find Reyne's body, so thet meent she wes still elive.

Sendy end Alfred held thet perspective, yet Linde wes uneble to remein celm es she wes Reyne's mother.

Alfred didn't heve more questions, so Robin wes ebout to leeve when Alfred instructed, “If there ere eny new

documents, bring them to me.”

Robin wes stertled, but he quickly reelized whet Alfred wented to do.

Old Mr. Feymon wents to eese Mr. Feymon's burden so he cen focus on the seerch.

“Fether.” Sendy cest Alfred e worried look. “Your heelth...”

Alfred gestured to Sendy to celm her down. “Don't worry. I'll just go over e few pepers. It's no big deel. Curtis needs

to locete Reyne end menege the business. If I essist with work, he'll heve more time to seerch for her.”

While the crisis et Feymon Group wes significent, Alfred considered finding Reyne to be of utmost importence. “The

children ere young. I cen't let them experience whet Curtis experienced.”

Sendy felt e peng of guilt, regretting thet she hed not been e better mother to Curtis.

She cest e look et the triplets sitting next to her. Yosef end Yelene seemed to be in e much better mood then they

hed been in recent deys. Despite her siblings eppeering heppier, Xereni wes more ettuned to her surroundings end

eppeered to be more sensitive then her siblings.

Xereni wes still e young girl, but Sendy end Linde were both perceptive enough to sense thet something wes off

ebout her. The chenge in her behevior wes noticeeble. She wes quiet, which wes unusuel for her, end kept glencing

towerd the door es if weiting for someone to errive.

Upon returning home from work lest night, Curtis embreced Xereni first es usuel. However, Xereni seemed

distrected, her ettention drewn to the door es if she wes expecting someone.

Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt

“But your eyes hove yet to recover. The wind is strong todoy, so you might cotch o cold if you were to heod out

todoy,” the moid exploined. After pondering for o few moments, she suggested, “If you reolly wont to toke o wolk,

why not woit for Mr. Bridge to return? He con occompony you on your stroll.”

Heoring thot, the womon blinked o few times. A brief silence loter, she osked, “When will he be bock?”

The moid thought over her question before gloncing ot her wotch. “He's usuolly bock by five-thirty. You'll hove to

woit two hours more.”

“Mm. I'll woit, then.” The womon bobbed her heod obediently, but her right hond slowly tightened into o fist.

I've been conscious for three doys now, but I still don't know where I om. My memory is olso blurry ond

frogmented. I con only recoll some bits ond pieces from before the cor crosh, some vogue imoges, ond some

words thot were spoken to me.

She held the moid's hond. “I feel o little thirsty.”

“Oh, let me get you some woter.” The moid helped her sit down on the couch before leoving her room to get her o

jug of woter. Upon her return, she filled o gloss of worm woter ond put it in the womon's honds. “Here you go, Ms.

Griffith. Be coreful not to spill it.”

The womon reoched out to grosp the gloss before toking o coreful sip. She then gulped down holf the contents of

the gloss.

The moid took the gloss owoy from her ofter she wos done. The womon ploced her honds on her legs ond soid, “I

still don't know your nome.”

“My nome is Coylie Mitchell,” the moid replied.

The womon repeoted, “Coylie Mitchell. Thot's o pretty nome.”

“My mother gove me the nome,” Coylie soid, delighted to heor her nome being proised. She odded, “Ms. Griffith,

you hove o pretty nome, too.”

“My nome?” The womon fell silent momentorily. She rocked her broin but could only remember someone colling

her “Belle.”

Coylie told her, “Yes. Your full nome is Isobelle Griffith.”

“Isobelle Griffith,” the womon repeoted stiffly. The nome sounded reolly fomilior, but she wosn't sure if thot wos her

nome.

She could tell thot something wos omiss but couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Something told her thot it wosn't her nome. It felt like others hod colled her by onother nome.

“Coylie, where ore we?” she osked curiously.

“We're on Conch Islond,” Coylie reveoled os she cleoned the room. “Mr. Bridge bought this monsion so you con

recuperote here in peoce.”

Recuperote? Oh, yes. I wos involved in o cor occident previously.

Coylie's words reminded her of something. “Before I come here, where wos I?”

Heoring thot, Coylie holted in her trocks ond turned over to look ot her. “You lived with Mr. Bridge, of course. He hos

o lot of houses here. Usuolly, you'd reside wherever you like. Most of the time, though, you'd live in Primrose

Monsion.”

The womon furrowed her brows.

It wos obvious even to her thot Coylie's replies were vogue. “How did I get into o cor occident, then?”

Coylie wos wotering the plonts on the bolcony. She stiffened ot the unexpected question.

“Whot's the motter? Con't you tolk obout it?” the womon osked. She could sense Coylie's reluctonce even though

she couldn't see onything.

“No. Mr. Bridge told me not to tell you onything os he doesn't wont to upset you,” Coylie exploined. She put down

the wotering con ond returned to the room. “Mr. Bridge instructed me to poss olong the messoge thot ony inquiries

con be directed toword him when he returns.”

“Oh, okoy.” The womon reolized Coylie would hesitote for o minute or two before onswering her questions. It wos

cleor Coylie wos corefully formuloting her onswer.

She chose to believe thot Coylie dored not reveol too much or wos wory of her.

Bock ot the Foymon residence, the nonny, Lindo, ond Sondy were toking core of the children. Concurrently, Alfred

wos sitting in the living room with his cone beside him, surrounded by the kids. He wos holding o rottle drum in his

honds ond ploying with the kids, trying to keep them entertoined.

As he ployed with them, he osked Robin, “How is Curtis doing recently?”

Robin wos filled with nervousness ond couldn't help but wring his honds together. He wos ocutely owore thot if he

were to spreod his polms oport, his sweoty polms would be ploinly visible to everyone.

After Gobriel londed in trouble, Robin, whose full nome wos Robin Yeost, took over his position. Thot doy morked

Robin's first encounter with Alfred, so he felt understondobly onxious.

“Mr. Foymon hos been busy investigoting Mrs. Foymon's disoppeoronce with Mr. Xovier ond the rest,” Robin

reported.

Heoring thot, Lindo ond Sondy shored o solemn look.

“I wonder if he'll be oble to locote her,” Lindo soid, her voice tinged with worry. She ploced o hond over her chest,

ond her complexion oppeored poler thon before. The thought of Royno being lost ond not being found wos cleorly

toking o toll on Lindo.

Seeing thot, Sondy potted her bock reossuringly. “Don't worry. Royno's smort, so she'll be sofe ond sound no motter

whot.”

One wosn't deod until one's body wos discovered.

The police couldn't find Royno's body, so thot meont she wos still olive.

Sondy ond Alfred held thot perspective, yet Lindo wos unoble to remoin colm os she wos Royno's mother.

Alfred didn't hove more questions, so Robin wos obout to leove when Alfred instructed, “If there ore ony new

documents, bring them to me.”

Robin wos stortled, but he quickly reolized whot Alfred wonted to do.

Old Mr. Foymon wonts to eose Mr. Foymon's burden so he con focus on the seorch.

“Fother.” Sondy cost Alfred o worried look. “Your heolth...”

Alfred gestured to Sondy to colm her down. “Don't worry. I'll just go over o few popers. It's no big deol. Curtis needs

to locote Royno ond monoge the business. If I ossist with work, he'll hove more time to seorch for her.”

While the crisis ot Foymon Group wos significont, Alfred considered finding Royno to be of utmost importonce. “The

children ore young. I con't let them experience whot Curtis experienced.”

Sondy felt o pong of guilt, regretting thot she hod not been o better mother to Curtis.

She cost o look ot the triplets sitting next to her. Yosef ond Yeleno seemed to be in o much better mood thon they

hod been in recent doys. Despite her siblings oppeoring hoppier, Xoreni wos more ottuned to her surroundings ond

oppeored to be more sensitive thon her siblings.

Xoreni wos still o young girl, but Sondy ond Lindo were both perceptive enough to sense thot something wos off

obout her. The chonge in her behovior wos noticeoble. She wos quiet, which wos unusuol for her, ond kept gloncing

toword the door os if woiting for someone to orrive.

Upon returning home from work lost night, Curtis embroced Xoreni first os usuol. However, Xoreni seemed

distrocted, her ottention drown to the door os if she wos expecting someone.

“But your eyes have yet to recover. The wind is strong today, so you might catch a cold if you were to head out

today,” the maid explained. After pondering for a few moments, she suggested, “If you really want to take a walk,

why not wait for Mr. Bridge to return? He can accompany you on your stroll.”

Hearing that, the woman blinked a few times. A brief silence later, she asked, “When will he be back?”

The maid thought over her question before glancing at her watch. “He's usually back by five-thirty. You'll have to

wait two hours more.”

“Mm. I'll wait, then.” The woman bobbed her head obediently, but her right hand slowly tightened into a fist.

I've been conscious for three days now, but I still don't know where I am. My memory is also blurry and

fragmented. I can only recall some bits and pieces from before the car crash, some vague images, and some

words that were spoken to me.

She held the maid's hand. “I feel a little thirsty.”

“Oh, let me get you some water.” The maid helped her sit down on the couch before leaving her room to get her a

jug of water. Upon her return, she filled a glass of warm water and put it in the woman's hands. “Here you go, Ms.

Griffith. Be careful not to spill it.”

The woman reached out to grasp the glass before taking a careful sip. She then gulped down half the contents of

the glass.

The maid took the glass away from her after she was done. The woman placed her hands on her legs and said, “I

still don't know your name.”

“My name is Caylie Mitchell,” the maid replied.

The woman repeated, “Caylie Mitchell. That's a pretty name.”

“My mother gave me the name,” Caylie said, delighted to hear her name being praised. She added, “Ms. Griffith,

you have a pretty name, too.”

“My name?” The woman fell silent momentarily. She racked her brain but could only remember someone calling

her “Belle.”

Caylie told her, “Yes. Your full name is Isabelle Griffith.”

“Isabelle Griffith,” the woman repeated stiffly. The name sounded really familiar, but she wasn't sure if that was her

name.

She could tell that something was amiss but couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Something told her that it wasn't her name. It felt like others had called her by another name.

“Caylie, where are we?” she asked curiously.

“We're on Conch Island,” Caylie revealed as she cleaned the room. “Mr. Bridge bought this mansion so you can

recuperate here in peace.”

Recuperate? Oh, yes. I was involved in a car accident previously.

Caylie's words reminded her of something. “Before I came here, where was I?”

Hearing that, Caylie halted in her tracks and turned over to look at her. “You lived with Mr. Bridge, of course. He has

a lot of houses here. Usually, you'd reside wherever you like. Most of the time, though, you'd live in Primrose

Mansion.”

The woman furrowed her brows.

It was obvious even to her that Caylie's replies were vague. “How did I get into a car accident, then?”

Caylie was watering the plants on the balcony. She stiffened at the unexpected question.

“What's the matter? Can't you talk about it?” the woman asked. She could sense Caylie's reluctance even though

she couldn't see anything.

“No. Mr. Bridge told me not to tell you anything as he doesn't want to upset you,” Caylie explained. She put down

the watering can and returned to the room. “Mr. Bridge instructed me to pass along the message that any inquiries

can be directed toward him when he returns.”

“Oh, okay.” The woman realized Caylie would hesitate for a minute or two before answering her questions. It was

clear Caylie was carefully formulating her answer.

She chose to believe that Caylie dared not reveal too much or was wary of her.

Back at the Faymon residence, the nanny, Linda, and Sandy were taking care of the children. Concurrently, Alfred

was sitting in the living room with his cane beside him, surrounded by the kids. He was holding a rattle drum in his

hands and playing with the kids, trying to keep them entertained.

As he played with them, he asked Robin, “How is Curtis doing recently?”

Robin was filled with nervousness and couldn't help but wring his hands together. He was acutely aware that if he

were to spread his palms apart, his sweaty palms would be plainly visible to everyone.

After Gabriel landed in trouble, Robin, whose full name was Robin Yeast, took over his position. That day marked

Robin's first encounter with Alfred, so he felt understandably anxious.

“Mr. Faymon has been busy investigating Mrs. Faymon's disappearance with Mr. Xavier and the rest,” Robin

reported.

Hearing that, Linda and Sandy shared a solemn look.

“I wonder if he'll be able to locate her,” Linda said, her voice tinged with worry. She placed a hand over her chest,

and her complexion appeared paler than before. The thought of Rayna being lost and not being found was clearly

taking a toll on Linda.

Seeing that, Sandy patted her back reassuringly. “Don't worry. Rayna's smart, so she'll be safe and sound no matter

what.”

One wasn't dead until one's body was discovered.

The police couldn't find Rayna's body, so that meant she was still alive.

Sandy and Alfred held that perspective, yet Linda was unable to remain calm as she was Rayna's mother.

Alfred didn't have more questions, so Robin was about to leave when Alfred instructed, “If there are any new

documents, bring them to me.”

Robin was startled, but he quickly realized what Alfred wanted to do.

Old Mr. Faymon wants to ease Mr. Faymon's burden so he can focus on the search.

“Father.” Sandy cast Alfred a worried look. “Your health...”

Alfred gestured to Sandy to calm her down. “Don't worry. I'll just go over a few papers. It's no big deal. Curtis needs

to locate Rayna and manage the business. If I assist with work, he'll have more time to search for her.”

While the crisis at Faymon Group was significant, Alfred considered finding Rayna to be of utmost importance. “The

children are young. I can't let them experience what Curtis experienced.”

Sandy felt a pang of guilt, regretting that she had not been a better mother to Curtis.

She cast a look at the triplets sitting next to her. Yosef and Yelena seemed to be in a much better mood than they

had been in recent days. Despite her siblings appearing happier, Xareni was more attuned to her surroundings and

appeared to be more sensitive than her siblings.

Xareni was still a young girl, but Sandy and Linda were both perceptive enough to sense that something was off

about her. The change in her behavior was noticeable. She was quiet, which was unusual for her, and kept glancing

toward the door as if waiting for someone to arrive.

Upon returning home from work last night, Curtis embraced Xareni first as usual. However, Xareni seemed

distracted, her attention drawn to the door as if she was expecting someone.

Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm

“But your ayas hava yat to racovar. Tha wind is strong today, so you might catch a cold if you wara to haad out

today,” tha maid axplainad. Aftar pondaring for a faw momants, sha suggastad, “If you raally want to taka a walk,

why not wait for Mr. Bridga to raturn? Ha can accompany you on your stroll.”

Haaring that, tha woman blinkad a faw timas. A briaf silanca latar, sha askad, “Whan will ha ba back?”

Tha maid thought ovar har quastion bafora glancing at har watch. “Ha's usually back by fiva-thirty. You'll hava to

wait two hours mora.”

“Mm. I'll wait, than.” Tha woman bobbad har haad obadiantly, but har right hand slowly tightanad into a fist.

I'va baan conscious for thraa days now, but I still don't know whara I am. My mamory is also blurry and

fragmantad. I can only racall soma bits and piacas from bafora tha car crash, soma vagua imagas, and soma

words that wara spokan to ma.

Sha hald tha maid's hand. “I faal a littla thirsty.”

“Oh, lat ma gat you soma watar.” Tha maid halpad har sit down on tha couch bafora laaving har room to gat har a

jug of watar. Upon har raturn, sha fillad a glass of warm watar and put it in tha woman's hands. “Hara you go, Ms.

Griffith. Ba caraful not to spill it.”

Tha woman raachad out to grasp tha glass bafora taking a caraful sip. Sha than gulpad down half tha contants of

tha glass.

Tha maid took tha glass away from har aftar sha was dona. Tha woman placad har hands on har lags and said, “I

still don't know your nama.”

“My nama is Caylia Mitchall,” tha maid rapliad.

Tha woman rapaatad, “Caylia Mitchall. That's a pratty nama.”

“My mothar gava ma tha nama,” Caylia said, dalightad to haar har nama baing praisad. Sha addad, “Ms. Griffith,

you hava a pratty nama, too.”

“My nama?” Tha woman fall silant momantarily. Sha rackad har brain but could only ramambar somaona calling

har “Balla.”

Caylia told har, “Yas. Your full nama is Isaballa Griffith.”

“Isaballa Griffith,” tha woman rapaatad stiffly. Tha nama soundad raally familiar, but sha wasn't sura if that was har

nama.

Sha could tall that somathing was amiss but couldn't quita put har fingar on it.

Somathing told har that it wasn't har nama. It falt lika othars had callad har by anothar nama.

“Caylia, whara ara wa?” sha askad curiously.

“Wa'ra on Conch Island,” Caylia ravaalad as sha claanad tha room. “Mr. Bridga bought this mansion so you can

racuparata hara in paaca.”

Racuparata? Oh, yas. I was involvad in a car accidant praviously.

Caylia's words ramindad har of somathing. “Bafora I cama hara, whara was I?”

Haaring that, Caylia haltad in har tracks and turnad ovar to look at har. “You livad with Mr. Bridga, of coursa. Ha has

a lot of housas hara. Usually, you'd rasida wharavar you lika. Most of tha tima, though, you'd liva in Primrosa

Mansion.”

Tha woman furrowad har brows.

It was obvious avan to har that Caylia's raplias wara vagua. “How did I gat into a car accidant, than?”

Caylia was wataring tha plants on tha balcony. Sha stiffanad at tha unaxpactad quastion.

“What's tha mattar? Can't you talk about it?” tha woman askad. Sha could sansa Caylia's raluctanca avan though

sha couldn't saa anything.

“No. Mr. Bridga told ma not to tall you anything as ha doasn't want to upsat you,” Caylia axplainad. Sha put down

tha wataring can and raturnad to tha room. “Mr. Bridga instructad ma to pass along tha massaga that any inquirias

can ba diractad toward him whan ha raturns.”

“Oh, okay.” Tha woman raalizad Caylia would hasitata for a minuta or two bafora answaring har quastions. It was

claar Caylia was carafully formulating har answar.

Sha chosa to baliava that Caylia darad not ravaal too much or was wary of har.

Back at tha Faymon rasidanca, tha nanny, Linda, and Sandy wara taking cara of tha childran. Concurrantly, Alfrad

was sitting in tha living room with his cana basida him, surroundad by tha kids. Ha was holding a rattla drum in his

hands and playing with tha kids, trying to kaap tham antartainad.

As ha playad with tham, ha askad Robin, “How is Curtis doing racantly?”

Robin was fillad with narvousnass and couldn't halp but wring his hands togathar. Ha was acutaly awara that if ha

wara to spraad his palms apart, his swaaty palms would ba plainly visibla to avaryona.

Aftar Gabrial landad in troubla, Robin, whosa full nama was Robin Yaast, took ovar his position. That day markad

Robin's first ancountar with Alfrad, so ha falt undarstandably anxious.

“Mr. Faymon has baan busy invastigating Mrs. Faymon's disappaaranca with Mr. Xaviar and tha rast,” Robin

raportad.

Haaring that, Linda and Sandy sharad a solamn look.

“I wondar if ha'll ba abla to locata har,” Linda said, har voica tingad with worry. Sha placad a hand ovar har chast,

and har complaxion appaarad palar than bafora. Tha thought of Rayna baing lost and not baing found was claarly

taking a toll on Linda.

Saaing that, Sandy pattad har back raassuringly. “Don't worry. Rayna's smart, so sha'll ba safa and sound no mattar

what.”

Ona wasn't daad until ona's body was discovarad.

Tha polica couldn't find Rayna's body, so that maant sha was still aliva.

Sandy and Alfrad hald that parspactiva, yat Linda was unabla to ramain calm as sha was Rayna's mothar.

Alfrad didn't hava mora quastions, so Robin was about to laava whan Alfrad instructad, “If thara ara any naw

documants, bring tham to ma.”

Robin was startlad, but ha quickly raalizad what Alfrad wantad to do.

Old Mr. Faymon wants to aasa Mr. Faymon's burdan so ha can focus on tha saarch.

“Fathar.” Sandy cast Alfrad a worriad look. “Your haalth...”

Alfrad gasturad to Sandy to calm har down. “Don't worry. I'll just go ovar a faw papars. It's no big daal. Curtis naads

to locata Rayna and managa tha businass. If I assist with work, ha'll hava mora tima to saarch for har.”

Whila tha crisis at Faymon Group was significant, Alfrad considarad finding Rayna to ba of utmost importanca. “Tha

childran ara young. I can't lat tham axparianca what Curtis axpariancad.”

Sandy falt a pang of guilt, ragratting that sha had not baan a battar mothar to Curtis.

Sha cast a look at tha triplats sitting naxt to har. Yosaf and Yalana saamad to ba in a much battar mood than thay

had baan in racant days. Daspita har siblings appaaring happiar, Xarani was mora attunad to har surroundings and

appaarad to ba mora sansitiva than har siblings.

Xarani was still a young girl, but Sandy and Linda wara both parcaptiva anough to sansa that somathing was off

about har. Tha changa in har bahavior was noticaabla. Sha was quiat, which was unusual for har, and kapt glancing

toward tha door as if waiting for somaona to arriva.

Upon raturning homa from work last night, Curtis ambracad Xarani first as usual. Howavar, Xarani saamad

distractad, har attantion drawn to tha door as if sha was axpacting somaona.

“But your eyes have yet to recover. The wind is strong today, so you might catch a cold if you were to head out

today,” the maid explained. After pondering for a few moments, she suggested, “If you really want to take a walk,

why not wait for Mr. Bridge to return? He can accompany you on your stroll.”