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.”

“Stuff like that really leaves

I’d make this up? I’m telling you, your brother’s

stayed quiet, letting Dalton continue

kidnappers were probably after money. They saw Winston sneaking out from a mansion that looked

age couldn’t possibly fight

into a dirty, chaotic van,

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,

who took him was tall and

sign of resistance, the man would beat him–fists

mercy.

little boy

didn’t lose his

his parents would come to save

no

silent man who’d never

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373 No One to

above all else and hardly paid

their child in a life–threatening

what Winston believed

hit harder than

called Sienna, all he got

mother didn’t

a young child, that was an earth–shattering

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