It all started with an unexpected incident.

Back then, Winston was just a boy–eight or nine years old.

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It was a gloomy day, the sky heavy with clouds. Winston had snuck out of the Ginger family estate to feed

a stray puppy.

But what he didn’t expect-

Was danger falling from the sky.

He was kidnapped.

Reading this, Jean couldn’t help but widen her eyes in shock. She muttered under her breath, “Kidnapped?”

She had been through that kind of trauma herself… It was a harrowing experience.

She hadn’t imagined Winston had gone through the same thing—at such a young age.

She quickly typed out a message to Dalton.

Jean: “Kidnapped? Are you serious? I can’t believe my brother went through something like that when he was just a kid.”

that really leaves a

think I’d make this up? I’m telling you,

stayed quiet, letting Dalton continue

money. They saw Winston sneaking out from a mansion that looked like

that age couldn’t

was shoved into a dirty, chaotic

couldn’t do anything–just lie there helplessly as the van sped away, carrying him farther and farther from home, until they reached a remote, desolate

him was

of resistance, the man would beat him–fists

mercy.

little boy endured it

lose his head

still believed his parents would come to save

no

man who’d never shown him any warmth… even if his mother

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his father, placing him above all else and hardly

abandon their child in a life–threatening

what Winston believed with all

hit harder than any

the kidnapper called Sienna, all he

mother didn’t even pick

that was an

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