Chapter 2 A Different Conte
1055 Words
Seven years later.
"Mom, look! I set up the frame all by myself!"
A six-year-old boy gently adjusted the painting frame, which stood taller than him, and called out to the woman behind him.
Olivia beamed at him, her heart swelling with pride. "Wonderful, Hermann, you're truly the man of the Tyler family."
Little Hermann puffed out his chest, basking in his mother's praise.
Suddenly, a loud crash came from the kitchen.
Olivia quickly put down her paintbrush and rushed to the kitchen.
A little girl, angelic in her adorableness, sat on the floor, her nose, face, and clothes covered in paint smudges.
Seeing Olivia rush in, the little girl sniffled, but couldn't hold back as a big tear rolled down her cheek.
"Sorry, Mommy. I was only trying to help."
Relieved to see she wasn't hurt, Olivia let out a breath and smiled. "My little Nina, you've helped Mommy a lot."
"Really?"
"Of course! Just seeing your cute face makes me feel much happier. That's the best help I could ask for," Olivia said.
Little Nina, hearing this, broke into a smile through her tears.
By this time, Hermann had run into the kitchen. Seeing his sister's paint-streaked face, he quickly reached out to wipe it off.
Unfortunately, he ended up with paint all over his hand instead.
He curiously dabbed at his nose, and when he pulled his hand away, there was a streak of paint across it too.
Olivia pulled both children into a warm hug, her heart brimming with happiness.
Seven years ago, she had found herself alone on the streets of this unfamiliar city, overwhelmed by fear.
She remembered nothing except the driver's license she had found on herself, which read "Olivia Tyler."
She assumed that must be her name.
After receiving welfare for a while, she discovered her hidden talent during unemployment training: painting.
When the instructor saw her first piece, he was stunned, calling it "the work of hands kissed by God".
From then on, Olivia made a living through her art.
However, on the very day she received her first paycheck, she discovered she was pregnant.
The news hit her like a lightning strike out of nowhere, but sadly, she couldn't recall a thing. After battling through endless hardships, she finally brought her two children into the world, only to find that raising them was an even tougher challenge.
Fortunately, after weathering the storm of tough times, her two little ones became her greatest comfort.
'They're like angels,' she often thought.
"Nina, did you take your medicine today?" Olivia asked.
Nina nodded vigorously, and Olivia kissed both children's cheeks. "Then let's head out!"
*****
With a small cart brimming with art supplies and her two kids in tow, Olivia made her way to the bustling square.
The studio she had been supplying with her artwork had disbanded, and she had been making a living by sketching portraits for people.
However, this income was unstable, and her meager savings were quickly dwindling, with rent being her biggest worry.
Thankfully, with her two little angels by her side, she believed things would eventually get better.
Bolstered by this hopeful thought, Olivia eagerly awaited her first customer of the day.
*****
Sadly, even with the square teeming with people, not a single soul paused. Noticing the lack of interest, Hermann sprang into action, engaging passersby, while Nina grabbed a drawing board and passionately pitched their art.
The two little angels quickly captured the attention of those nearby. Just as a young couple was about to step forward, a drunkard suddenly barreled through. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted, waving an empty bottle wildly. The crowd quickly scattered, leaving no one around. The drunkard turned to Olivia and yelled, "Who said you could set up shop on Old Jack's turf?"
"Your turf?" Olivia shot to her feet, her voice icy as she replied, "I've been painting here for a month, and now it's your turf?"
"The whole park is Old Jack's turf!" he bellowed even louder.
Olivia remained calm. After all, she'd been navigating the streets for six years out of necessity. Compared to the rogues she had faced, Old Jack seemed as harmless as a newborn."Hey, you're Old Jack, aren't you?" Olivia took a deep breath. "I don't want any trouble. I just need a small spot to do my work, and I won't bother you..."
"Cut the crap!" Old Jack bellowed, "50 bucks!"
Olivia suddenly laughed, her last ounce of sympathy for him evaporating. If he kept this up, she wouldn't hesitate to use some street-smart tactics.
"Hey! What are you doing, you little brats!"
Old Jack suddenly clutched his ankle, yelling in pain.
Olivia's heart leapt. Nina, who had been stealthily hiding, had delivered a swift kick!
Old Jack spun around, and there was Nina, making a face at him.
Hermann rushed up, shielding Nina behind him, his eyes blazing with protective fury.
Old Jack cursed, raising his bottle. Almost simultaneously, Olivia sprang into action.
But before she could reach him, a hand had already grabbed Old Jack.
He turned, only to see a broad, muscular chest, and had to look up to find a handsome face underneath a cascade of shimmering golden locks.
"Sir, picking on women and children isn't a good habit."
The drunkard struggled, yanking his arm, but it was like trying to move a steel clamp. He spat out threats, "Let me go! Or else you'll..."
His words were drowned out by a swarm of men in black who suddenly came from behind, and within seconds, Old Jack was out of sight.
The man turned around, and when he saw Olivia's face, his heart skipped a beat.
She might not have been the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, but he'd never felt anything quite like this before.
Olivia's heart raced even faster.
She had seen this face before!
A torrent of fragmented memories overwhelmed her mind, yet she couldn't clearly grasp any single piece of them. The flood of memories left her reeling, and she finally stumbled backward.
Only to be caught in a warm, steady embrace.
"Who are you?"
Olivia gazed into those melancholic sky-blue eyes in front of her and, with the last of her strength, she asked.
"Who, me?"
The man hesitated for a moment:
"I'm Arthur Conte."
- Writer
