WHEN MRS. JOHNSON TOLD Pamilerin that she owned an orphanage, he expected a rundown building full with poverty stricken children, like the ones they took them to during excursions to donate to and help out. He definitely wasn't expecting elegantly built buildings that looked more exquisite than most elite secondary schools. Everything was burgundy and white, from the tall buildings to the uniforms the students wore. She drove him around the school, showing off the numerous sports fields, dormitories, and school buildings. Then she took him to her office.
"Madam, welcome." A plump lady rushed to them, taking Mrs. Johnson's bag and ushering them into the office.
“Thank you, Sade. Please get him a bottle of Fanta. And bring a form for new entries as you're coming. Oh, and get one of the boy
