Chapter 4: Three Children's Thoughts
929 Words
"Brother, what’s your plan for Steven at Warner Group?" Vivian inquired as she resettled into her seat.
"He’ll be doing the heavy lifting," Sammy said, his red eyes twinkling mischievously as he smiled enigmatically.
Three hours later, in New York.
"Boss, are you kidding me? You want me, the nation’s top fashion designer, to go to Warner Group to be just a design director and act as a bodyguard for a woman, plus report on her daily? Is this the tough fate of a handsome guy?" Steven theatrically shouted to the ceiling in his opulent suite.
Looks like the boss wants me to play nanny!
(Note: "Boss" is how all members address Sammy, "Miss" for Cathy, and "Little Miss" for Vivian.)
"Darren, book me a flight, the sooner the better. Now, immediately," Steven hastily directed his assistant over the phone.
"To where?" the assistant queried.
"M City, an early flight, in business class," Steven quickly responded, snapping the phone shut in one fluid motion.
"Compromising isn't usually my style, but I can’t ignore the boss's orders," Steven reasoned, hoping the woman wouldn't turn out to be unattractive. Being seen constantly with her could damage my image, not just breaking my heart but also upsetting all the lovely ladies who adore me. Being this good-looking comes with its burdens, surrounded by admirers everywhere.
He dramatically clutched his heart, feigning resignation.
On a bright, sunny morning at Demon Street number seven.
"Mom, you left your lunchbox behind," Sammy called out to Amelia, who looked rushed and a bit messy at the door.
Amelia was trying to get her shoes on while a piece of bread dangled from her mouth, her movements clumsy.
Sammy sighed and rubbed his forehead, showing a look of utter helplessness as he shook the green lunchbox in his hand.
Once her shoes were on, Amelia patted her head and offered Sammy an apologetic smile, accepting the lunchbox he extended.
"Amelia, are you sure you don’t need me to drop you three off at school?" she asked, pulling the bread from her mouth, her face marked by worry.
"No worries, Uncle Thomas will drive us," Sammy assured her.
(Note: Thomas, a strikingly handsome and volatile 30-year-old, leads the Flame gang, the biggest in M City. Known to the triplets as their captor, he behaves as docile as a cat around them and has been affectionately called "uncle" for a year, also claiming to be Amelia's brother.)
"If Mr. Kitty is taking you, then I’ll head to work. Just be careful," she advised before hurrying away.
"Mr. Kitty?" Referring to Thomas in such a way might sound strange, but to the siblings, he truly acts like a tame cat.
"Brother, if Mom faces any trouble at Warner, what will you do?" Cathy looked on anxiously as she watched Amelia’s taxi disappear.
"We’ll make quite a scene," Sammy answered, his voice a blend of youthful innocence and icy resolve, echoing in the breeze.
A brief glint of red flickered through his crimson eyes, his voice ice-cold, devoid of any warmth, only endless chill.
"Losing Warner Group wouldn’t really be a big deal for him."
"Why not just appoint Mom as a nominal manager at V Group instead of making her work as a secretary for nominal Dad? It's not like we can't afford to support her ourselves." After all, V Group is a top-notch company in M City, certainly on par with Warner Group.
"Mom may be a bit absent-minded and naïve, but she's certainly not stupid," Sammy observed, though he conceded she tended to become quite timid during thunderstorms.
"Mom is absolutely adorable when she's scared during storms," even more than usual.
Vivian, still enjoying her lollipop, agreed, "Despite being scatterbrained and naïve, Mom isn’t dumb."
Outside Warner Group, a casually dressed, handsome man wearing sunglasses stared sadly at a photograph in his hand.
"Oh my gosh, Boss, are you kidding me? You're making me, a man known for my bravery and charm, act as a cheesy knight in shining armor? Clearly, it’s jealousy of talent..."
His long lament was cut short by a surprise from behind.
"This person... ah, outdated," his tone shifted upon seeing who had collided with him.
"Um, sir, who might you be?" She hadn’t seen him before. Why did he seem so familiar? And she certainly wasn’t old-fashioned. How impolite!
"You don't know me?" Steven was incredulous.
"Should I have met you before?" she asked, confused.
Could it really be possible that she had met him before but didn’t remember? Maybe he had mistaken her for someone else.
"How can that be?" Steven was dumbfounded. His face was plastered across newspapers, magazines, TV—how could someone not know him? Could it be that his fame wasn’t enough? Impossible, she must be some kind of hermit alien, definitely.
Steven kept reassuring himself internally.
"Sir, are you okay?" she asked, stepping back with a concerned look.
Seeing Amelia's concerned expression, Steven felt a pang of bitterness. Could he admit that he was bothered? On this planet, to encounter someone who didn't recognize him was baffling. He had thought, except for isolated mountain dwellers who’d never seen a TV, everyone should know him. It was deeply troubling. What kind of anomaly was this old-fashioned woman?
Thinking about having to interact more with this woman, whose fashion sense seemed terribly outdated, made every part of Steven hurt.
"I... I'm Steven. Steven," he tried to introduce himself.
Just as Steven was about to elaborate, a nearby commotion captured his attention, providing a momentary relief to his bruised ego.
- Writer
