Resurrecting the Genius Within

Chapter 447 Death

Isabelle’s certainty rivaled that of any physician, her touch lingering on the boy’s pulse, her grip lim yet gentle.

Within the dim confines of the collapsed structure, a heavy silence enveloped Isabelle, her features drawn tight, a fierce intensity blazing in her eyes, a silent testament to her shock and dismay.

In the desolation of the ruined dwelling, there lay nothing of worth to justify the boy’s perilous quest for two simple chocolate treats. With such precious treasures in hand, logic dictated he should have made a swift return to the safety of his grandfather’s humble abode.

Within those modest walls awaited Isabelle, the object of his deepest affection, the woman he longed to wed. Without hesitation, he would have bestowed upon her the coveted sweets.

Even in death, he should have drawn his last breath within the sanctuary of his home, not in the desolate expanse beyond.

Despite his upbringing in the harsh environs of the slum, and the grim reality of witnessing George dispatch his malevolent uncle, fear must have gripped him in the face of the thugs‘ coercion.

He knew the dire consequences of defiance, yet he braved the terror and led his companion to this forsaken place.

A fatal blow, sealing his fate.

The blade sliced through his windpipe, the struggle evident beneath him, yet he clung fiercely to the chocolate cake in his grasp.

He hadn’t touched the stash of money he’d squirreled away, hadn’t donned the spoils he’d scavenged for days, nor had he treated himself to a new pair of shoes.

The soup George planned to cook the next day remained untasted, the chocolate cake meant for Isabelle untouched. Little did he know, Isabelle had grand plans for him, a life far removed from scavenging, with endless shoes and ample nutrition. to fuel his growth.

Even the innocence of youth couldn’t shield him, a stark reminder of Dark Shadow’s ruthless orin on the slum

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with resolve, withdrew her hand, draping George’s coat over the fallen child. With a steely determination, she rose, an aura of vengeance radiating from her as she strode away.

she moved. “Isabelle,” George called out, his anxiety

soon be upon us. He sacrificed flee, George urged, desperation tingeing

our chance to

action, she darted toward their small sanctuary, disappearing from

Shadow, alerted to the situation, raced toward

house, he caught a glimpse of Isabelle’s figure, but before he could reach her, he spied

a blood–stained blade, evidence of their grisly work. And as if one assailant wasn’t enough, another figure emerged from a

a greater threat

concealed behind the wall a mere seven or eight meters away,

exposure.

illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. In that faint

their assailants. Mentally

stayed rooted in place, her composure unwavering.

washed over George as he realised her calm and rational demeanour exceeded his

over. More

flooded into the slum from every direction, forcing George and Isabelle

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perilous maze, narrowly evading their purstiers time and again.

carefully tended to her wound. Despite his efforts, the wound, newly healed,

risk, venturing out to procure medicine and fresh bandages. Upon his return, he

the task was complete, Isabelle rose abruptly, prompting

succinct. “To call someone.”