He looked young, his pale face almost translucent, carrying a hint of fragility.
The marks on his body were even more severe than mine, as if he’d been ruthlessly tormented.
Rubbing his sore bottom, the boy’s eyes turned slightly red, and his lips pouted in a pitiful frown. His amber eyes were full of grievance.
“Morning, Miss…” he whimpered in a soft, kitten-like voice, the tone sticky with clear hurt that made my heart itch.
My own thoughts went rogue, and I almost reached out to help him up, but I nearly exposed myself in the process.
Clearing my throat, I adjusted the blanket to cover myself better and stared at his extraordinarily beautiful face. “What’s… your name?” I asked tentatively.
The boy, with his disheveled black hair sticking up in odd angles, looked adorably confused. “I’m Charles Shaw.”
“What? You’re Charles?”
My eyes widened, and I clutched the blanket to my chest, nearly shouting in disbelief.
What a coincidence!
The male lead Ethan’s half-brother, the one I’d never met, was named Charles, and he was supposed to be mentally impaired.
According to the story, he had just been brought back from some remote countryside yesterday.