Cameron had been raised by nannies until he was eleven. Around that time, Samuel met Rosalie Spencer. She was still in college then, he was already well into his thirties.


    But he fell for her at first sight, pursued her relentlessly for two years-every trick, every plea, even ying the victim-until Rosalie finally gave in. After graduation, she married him.


    She embraced Cameron as her own, poured herself into that house with devotion. For six months they lived as if in a honeymoon. Then she fell pregnant, the child fragile, and was confined to bed rest.


    It was during that time Samuel began his affair with Samantha Hunter, then a no-name actress.


    And yet at home, he still yed the loving husband-hovering at Rosalie’s bedside, tending to her needs. She believed she was the luckiest woman alive. After Charles was born, she gave up the painting she loved most, choosing instead to devote herself to her husband and the home.


    Samuel lied to her for five years. When Charles was four, Rosalie discovered the affair. The fight that followed shook the house.


    Charles had been too young to understand every word, but he understood enough that his father didn’t love his mother anymore. And he didn’t love him either.


    Rosalie wanted a divorce. Samuel refused, threatening her with her own family’s standing.


    She didn’t leave him legally-but she walked away from the Yates family, taking Charles with her.


    Samuel pressed harder, tightening the screws on their life, determined to force her back.


    Life back then had been brutal. Every time it felt like they couldn’t go on, Samuel would appear-like some savior-trying to force Rosalie intopromise.


    But each time, her answer was the same-another fight.


    Charles grew up in those battles, piecing the truth together from every word hurled across the room. That was when the hatred for his father took root. <fnf543> Checktest chapters at find{n}ovel</fnf543>


    To stay away from him, Rosalie kept moving them from ce to ce, until they ended up in an old, crumbling apartment block. That was when he first met Alicia.


    He was twelve. She was four.


    By then, the weight of home had closed him off, made him solitary, friendless. Rosalie worked herself to the bone, juggling multiple jobs, rarely home beforete. Most afternoons, he’de back from school, unable to get into the apartment, and sit on the stairs with his homework, waiting.


    The first time he saw Alicia, she was carrying a little te piled with potato wedges. He had his head bent ove his notebook when she suddenly popped into his line of sight.


    He jerked his head up-and crashed into the clearest, widest eyes he had ever seen. For a moment, he could only think, how could anyone’s eyes be that big?


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    Hershes were long, impossibly so. They framed her gaze like soft fur, reminding him of a rabbit. And when she blinked, they fluttered like tiny fans, brushing straight across his guarded heart.


    She smiled at him, a tiny snaggletooth peeking through, her wide eyes curving into crescent moons when sheughed.


    Her voice was small, innocent. “Big Brother, are you also a child nobody wants?”


    He didn’t answer. Just stared. But inside, the words lodged deep. Also? What did “also a child nobody wants” mean?


    The little girl didn’t mind his silence. She held out her te. “Buddy, these are potato wedges Grandpa Richard made. They’re so good-honestly the best thing I’ve ever had. Aren’t you hungry? Here, have one!”


    He was starving, but he ignored her.


    So she plopped down right in front of him, nibbling on a wedge. “Yummy! So, so yummy!”


    He kept writing his homework, not looking up. She ate two pieces, then stopped, setting the te in herp while she watched him work.


    Later, when his mother came home, he went back upstairs with her.


    Behind them, he heard the girl sigh with envy. “So… you do have a mom.” Then she carried her te back inside.


    The next day, she showed up again, still holding a te. This time it was stacked with egg sandwiches. “Grandpa Richard made these. No meat, but there’s egg in them. That counts as something, right?”


    He ignored her again.


    But she kepting back, day after day, sitting with him for two whole weeks.


    Until the day he fell sick, fever burning through him. He fainted on the stairwell, and when his body slumped forward, he tumbled down.


    She was only four-tiny-but she threw herself at him, trying to catch him. Instead, she went down with him, the two of them rolling together to the bottom of the stairs.


    When he woke in the hospital, the first thing he saw was her-face bruised and scraped, still smiling at him. “Buddy, you’re awake! That’s great. Your mom said she’ll be here soon.”


    “You… what happened to your face?” That was the first thing he ever said to her.


    Alicia touched her cheek, winced at the pain, then grinned through it. “Guess.”


    He didn’t.


    Later, his mother told him everything.


    He’d thought she was foolish then. But little by little, she broke into his guarded heart. He wanted to treat her


    like family.


    455 voucheryd


    From then on, they shared their meals. She still sat beside him while he did homework-but now it was in the little apartment she shared with Grandpa Richard, not on the stairwell.


    She grew older. It was time for school.


    “I want to go to the same school as you.” She dered.


    Grandpa Richard and his mother bothughed. “You’re just starting elementary, and he’s already in middle school. That’s not the same school.”


    “Then the closest ones.” she insisted.


    And she meant it. She really did end up in the school nearest his.


    They walked to school together. Walked home together.


    If he waste, she waited for him.


    If she waste, he went to find her.


    If anyone bullied her, he was the one who stood up for her.


    If ssmates picked on him, the little girl would puff herself up, fierce in her childish way, swearing to defend him. He never let her. But she was clever, always finding a way to make the bullies pay.


    He thought they could go on like that forever-simple, happy. But when he was sixteen, everything shattered. He was kidnapped, locked inside an abandoned warehouse. The men who took him never showed their faces. They all wore the same clothes, heads covered, never spoke a word. When they needed tomunicate, they


    wrote.


    He couldn’t recognize them.


    He tried speaking, but they ignored him. At one point he even wondered if they were disabled.


    On the third day, he saw two of them outside. He couldn’t hear, but he read their lips: burn him alive.


    They didn’t want ransom. They only wanted him dead.


    Panic wed at him. He was terrified. He wanted to fight, to escape-but his hands and feet were bound. He could barely move.


    Atst, someone came in. The man didn’t speak, didn’t move. He just stood there, watching. Silent. Watching. Until the fire caught, mes licking up the walls.


    Only then did he turn to leave. And Charles-tied to the chair-forced himself up, lunged at him, half- hopping, half-falling forward. He knew he couldn’t stop him. The man tore free almost instantly. But not before Charles ripped a brooch from his clothes.


    He thought that was the end-that he would burn alive in that ce. But then his mother came. Rosalie


    Spencer fought through the mes to reach him. She saved him. Instead, the fire took her.