Ryan Rhodes looked as if he’d discovered a new continent, grinning playfully.
“Hahaha, the boss is actually blushing!
No way, we definitely have to meet your future wife and see just who this incredible woman is!”
Silas Sutton raised a hand, pretending to smack him, and Ryan quickly dodged.
Laughter filled the car.
Once the joking subsided, Silas composed himself, though his fingers continued to gently stroke the cover of his notebook.
At the mention of business, Sean Crane immediately dropped his smile and pulled a tablet from his briefcase.
“According to your plan, we established Cosmos Group three years ago.
Currently, we operate in five major sectors: real estate, financial investment, hotel and entertainment, commerce, and logistics.
Look,” he said, swiping the screen to pull up the data.
“We’re already number one in Silverport.”
Ryan chimed in, “We only do legitimate business now.
At most…” He winked.
“…we operate in the gray area, but it’s all strictly legal and compliant.”
Silas nodded in satisfaction, gazing out the window at the increasingly bustling streetscape.
“Good job.
And stop calling me ‘Boss’ from now on.
It makes us sound like the mob.”
“What should we call you then?” Ryan asked.
“Call me Mr.
Sutton,” Silas said, a faint smile touching the corners of his lips.
“If we’re going to run legitimate businesses, we need to look the part.”
Sean immediately picked up the thread.
“Actually, you’ve always been the registered legal representative of the company.
The position of chairman of the board has been left empty, waiting for your return.
You were always our CEO.”
Silas gave a soft murmur of acknowledgment.
His gaze fell back to the notebook in his hands, and his voice suddenly grew gentle.
“Sprout is an angel.
She is light…
perfectly pure and clean.
I don’t want the shadows that cling to me to taint her in the slightest.”
Though spoken very softly, his words made the car fall instantly silent.
Sean and Ryan exchanged a glance, both seeing the shock in each other’s eyes.
They had known Silas for over a decade and had never seen him display such tender, careful devotion toward anyone or anything.
Kyle glanced at the backseat through the rearview mirror, understanding dawning in his heart.
As Silas’s most trusted bodyguard and driver before his imprisonment, he was the only one who knew who “Sprout” was.
He was also the only one who had witnessed the profound gentleness and restraint in Silas’s eyes when he looked at that girl.
“Kyle,” Silas suddenly spoke up.
“Head straight to Sunshine Orphanage.”
“Huh?” Kyle paused, startled.
“Right now?”
Sean and Ryan were equally astonished.
“An orphanage?
Your girl works at an orphanage?”
Silas didn’t answer.
He merely stared out the window, his eyes filled with anticipation and a trace of nervous hesitation, like a traveler dreading his long-awaited homecoming.
Kyle glanced through the rearview mirror at the shabby clothes Silas had worn out of prison—a simple gray long-sleeved shirt and black pants.
“Boss,” he said hesitantly, “why don’t we head back to the villa first?
You can take a shower and change your clothes.
The guys have set up a welcome-home banquet for you tonight.
It wouldn’t be too late to go see her tomorrow…”
Ryan also tried to persuade him.
“Yeah, you just got out of the joint.
You reek of prison stench.
You don’t want to scare her.”
Sean pushed up his glasses, weighing his words.
“Besides, wouldn’t showing up out of the blue be a bit abrupt?
Should we call her first?”
Silas looked down at his attire and gave a bitter smile.
He really was being too impatient.
For three years—1,095 days, 26,280 hours—he had counted every single day, imagining the moment he would see her again.
Yet, now that they were actually about to meet, he hesitated.
What should he look like when he appeared before her?
Had she already forgotten him?
Had she been doing well these past three years?
Finally, he let out a long breath and leaned back against the leather seat.
“…Let’s head back first.”
Hearing this, everyone in the car breathed a sigh of relief.
Ryan immediately picked up his phone.
“We’ve got him!
Top floor of The Sovereign Hotel.
We’re throwing a welcome-home banquet for Mr.
Sutton tonight!
Make sure everyone is there!”
The convoy changed direction, driving toward the most prosperous area in the city center.
Silas turned his head to look out the window.
The Kington skyline shimmered in the afternoon sun, a dense forest of skyscrapers towering over endless streams of traffic.
The city had changed a lot compared to three years ago, just like he had.
His fingers absently flipped to the middle of the notebook, revealing a folded handkerchief tucked inside.
When unfolded, it displayed a crabapple blossom embroidered in one corner.
Silas brushed his thumb over the flower, his gaze fixed on the receding scenery outside the window as his thoughts drifted away, pulling him deep into his memories.
Five years ago, in early spring.
Silas remembered it was a rainy afternoon.
He was only twenty-five at the time.
He had been driving, fleeing on his own, until the rain grew so heavy that he had to pull over to the side of the road.
It was then that he saw Sunshine Orphanage across the street.
It was an old-fashioned building, its walls covered in green ivy, with a massive sycamore tree in the courtyard.
Through the curtain of rain, the gate stood open, and a figure crouched in the doorway, feeding several stray cats.
Compelled by some unknown force, Silas got out of the car, crossed the street, and stood outside the gate.
The rain soaked his hair and shoulders.
Blood mixed with rainwater dripped from his arm, pooling into a pale red puddle at his feet.
The girl feeding the cats looked up and stood.
In that moment, time seemed to stand still.
She looked about fifteen or sixteen, dressed in a simple white shirt and blue jeans.
Her long hair was tied loosely behind her head, with a few stray strands plastered to her cheeks by the rain, giving her the innocent look of a student.
Her eyes were incredibly bright, like a sky washed clean by the rain, so clear they could reflect his image.
When she saw him, she didn’t panic, nor did she cower at the violent aura and blood covering him; she merely widened her eyes slightly.
“You…
you’re hurt,” she said.
Her voice was soft, yet it pierced through the curtain of rain and reached his ears clearly.
Silas froze, suddenly entirely unsure of how to answer.
Having run with the gangs for so many years, he had seen every kind of look imaginable—fear, hatred, awe, calculation…
but never such serene purity.
The girl set aside the cat food in her hands and walked up to him.
As the rain pattered down, she quickly became soaked as well, her white shirt clinging to her body and outlining her slender, graceful figure.
“Come inside and let me bandage that for you.” She turned and walked into the courtyard, seemingly certain he would follow.
And Silas truly did.
The interior of the orphanage was even older than it appeared from the outside, but it was exceptionally clean and tidy.
The walls were covered with colorful drawings made by the children.
A few kids peeked at him from behind doors, curious but unafraid.
The girl led him into a room that looked like an office and retrieved a first-aid kit from a cabinet.
“Take a seat!” she said, pointing to a chair as she expertly opened the kit.
Silas sat down, letting her untie the makeshift cloth bandage wrapped around his arm.
The wound was somewhat deep, the flesh torn open, but she was incredibly gentle as she treated it.
“Did you get into a fight?” she asked without looking up.
“…Yeah.”
“I’ll blow on it for you.
It won’t hurt.” The young girl blew gently on his wound.
Her lips were so close he could practically feel them—she looked sweet and endearing.
Watching her tender, careful demeanor, Silas found himself in a daze.
He could tell that her childish comfort stemmed from genuine concern.
“Don’t fight anymore,” she said calmly, picking up a sterilized cotton ball with tweezers.
“Life is precious.
It’s not worth wasting over trivial things.”
Silas wanted to laugh—hearing those words from a fifteen or sixteen-year-old girl was frankly a bit ridiculous.
But looking at her focused profile, he couldn’t manage even a chuckle.
“What’s your name?” he asked softly.
“Sprout,” she replied, finally looking up at him.
“Sprout?” Silas’s mouth twitched—perhaps because she had brushed against his wound.
“Who names someone that?”
The girl shrugged.
“None of the orphans here have real names.
We only have names like Shelly, Magpie, and Sprout.
What about you?”
For some inexplicable reason, Silas wanted to tease her, so he casually made up a name for himself.
“I’m Big Thug.
Just a street hoodlum.
Society’s trash.”