"I was not expecting you to deliver the letter in person after what have happen in Edgewood, you poor thing."

A middle age lady arrived to the living room of the Foxe family manor to meet up with the 5-year-old boy who is sitting on her couch, her looks filled with concern as the butler escorted her over after informing of the meeting. 

This woman before The Boy is name Isadora Foxe Thornvale, and she is one famous widower among high society here to be exact.

Originally she was the illegitimate bastard as her biological father had a liaison with her ambitious biological mother who used to work in a circus. As her mother was clearly unfit to raise her given her ambition, Isadora who was around 6 at that time was later brought into the Watson manor.

The Watsons consist a family of wealthy business people at that time, your typical arrange marriage between a legal wife and one daughter groomed to take over the family business. 

While the father treated her like his eldest daughter, unsurprisingly, his legal wife didn't take it well.

What was surprising about Isadora's tale, was that her half sister took on the mother role and raised Isadora unusually well.

It was an unusual dynamic in a family often ruled by cold pragmatism, but it was perhaps this relationship that had molded Isadora into the woman she had become: compassionate yet shrewd.

She only became shrewd....after Isadora's half sister was murdered by her arranged husband.

The tragedy sent shockwaves through their household. Her stepmother, already estranged, descended into paranoia, and her beloved father succumbed to a fatal heart attack upon hearing the news. The family had no sons, and all of their assets were about to be seize by her half-sister's husband's family at that time, as they were other the impression that the women of the Watson clan are beyond helpless. Keep in mind, this was a period at that time whereby financial businesses are male dominated, and illegitimate children are not to be given the equal chance of education unlike their legitimate siblings.

But how foolish they were to underestimate Isadora.

Isadora's ruthlessness emerged like a storm no one had anticipated. The arrogance of her half-sister's in-laws had blinded them to the fire smoldering beneath her calm demeanor—a fire stoked by grief, fury, and the betrayal that had torn her family apart.

They moved swiftly to claim the Watson estate, convinced of their impending victory. Yet, one by one, their schemes began to unravel, and whispers of misfortune followed in their wake. Mysterious financial failures, scandalous revelations, and sudden accidents plagued the very family that had sought to strip Isadora of everything.

Her half-sister's husband—arrogant and untouchable in his own mind—was the first to fall. He was exposed in a public scandal, his crimes and dealings meticulously laid bare for all of society to see. Humiliated and shunned, he became a pariah in the circles he once dominated. Soon after, he met an untimely end, though the circumstances of his death were cloaked in ambiguity—a carriage accident on a stormy night, the driver mysteriously disappearing.

The rest of the family fared no better. The patriarch of the in-laws fell into ruin after a series of catastrophic investments. Whispers swirled that someone had fed him false information, leading him to gamble away his fortune. His death followed soon after, the result of an "accidental" fire in his countryside estate. The matriarch, stripped of her wealth and influence, retreated into obscurity, only to die under mysterious circumstances—a sudden illness that left no trace.

Every move seemed to fall perfectly into place, as though orchestrated by an unseen hand.

Perhaps had she not married her husband, Thornvale, things wouldn't have gotten this far.

The Thornvale family are one of a kind family, shrouded in mystery, yet, oddly influential in their own way without the backing of the royal family. Isadora's marriage to Lord Thornvale had been a calculated move, one that shocked many. Some whispered that she had seduced him for power, while others speculated that he had sought her out for her sharp intellect and resilience, seeing in her a kindred spirit. Whatever the truth, their union was one of mutual respect and understanding, a partnership of equals in a world that rarely allowed for such things.

And yet, the same could not be said for the remaining heir of the family.

She raised their only son single-handedly after the untimely death of her husband. Isadora poured every ounce of her energy into ensuring he was provided for, balancing the demands of running both her late husband's financial empire and her own family's estate. Yet, there were growing whispers in high society—subtle, hushed, and often cruel—that something was not quite right with the Thornvale heir.

From a young age, the boy displayed peculiar behaviors that did not align with the expectations of nobility. He was intelligent, even brilliant in some ways, but his detachment from social norms was evident. He struggled with social interactions, often preferring solitude to the company of others, and seemed consumed by an inner world no one else could fully understand. 

Despite her best efforts, Isadora struggled to connect with her son, who seemed to lack the sharpness she had worked so hard to cultivate. His behavior became erratic, and she found herself questioning whether the Thornvale legacy would end with him. While she ran the businesses with fierce competence, she had yet to find a way to instill in him the same pragmatism, the same understanding of how to navigate a world that would devour him if he wasn't careful.

Then, when he turned 17, he slept with a woman who isn't his arrange fiance.

Now, Isodora knows such things are common in the aristocrat community, it's one thing if he had no feelings for the arrange fiance, fair enough.

But, as soon as Isodora finds out it wasn't consensual, he had to go.

This betrayal, this violation of trust and decency, shattered those hopes.

She had raised him with every resource at her disposal, trying to balance his upbringing with the demands of their esteemed lineage. Yet, somewhere along the way, something had gone awry. His detachment from societal norms had grown into something more profound—a disregard for the consequences of his actions, a lack of empathy that bordered on indifference.

Isadora had endured hardships and navigated treacherous waters to secure her family's place in society. She had fought tooth and nail against those who underestimated her, who sought to undermine the Thornvale legacy. Now, faced with her son's transgression, she knew that sentimentality could not cloud her judgment.

For the sake of their family's honor and standing, for the future of the Thornvale name, she had to act decisively. There could be no room for compromise, no forgiveness for such a grievous mistake. If her son couldn't uphold the values and standards expected of him, then he couldn't remain as the heir.

Therefore, in a straightforward decision that again, shocked the aristocrat community to their knees, she sent him to prison.

A family of such status doing such a thing, especially towards their only last surviving descendent was unprecedented in its severity.

The news spread like wildfire among the elite circles, eliciting a mixture of astonishment and whispered admiration for Isadora's resolve, as this presented her as someone who values justice above her own kin, especially among the commoners who are impress with her, her popularity grew too among aristocrats.

Conversely, there were voices of condemnation, primarily directed at the victim rather than Isadora herself. 

Some segments of society blamed the victim for allegedly seducing Isadora's son, highlighting biases and prejudices that often clouded perceptions of justice and accountability. The victim, being an illegitimate child without strong familial support, faced additional scrutiny and judgment, further complicating public perceptions of the case.

Whatever The Boy knew about in the aftermath of the victim's life later on in life, resources and follow up news about it didn't reveal much. However, with the projector he had stolen from Ernestine, as well as him doing his own personal investigation, he was able to figure out what happened to the victim.

In fact, he was so confident as to what have happened, that he decided to pay Miss Isadora in person. The Boy and Isadora met once at a royal gathering, since the royal family often invited Isadora for God knows what, and she was one of those few people who is aware what sort of person Ernestine is.

Oh yes, the bonded over their dislike for Ernestine for a period of time, enough for him to let her address her not by her husband's surname, but rather, her first name.

"Seriously, the royal family had their own office staff, why is it that your incompetent fiance Ernestine couldn't just simply send a couple of e-mails? It's 21st century for God sakes."

"It can't be helped," The Boy smiled faintly, the gesture not quite reaching his eyes. "There are some matters," he said quietly, "that must be handled directly. Especially when they concern individuals as... formidable as yourself."

Isadora chuckled softly at that, though her eyes flickered with curiosity. "Formidable, am I?" she said, settling into the chair opposite him. The butler discreetly placed a tray of tea between them before retreating from the room. "You flatter me, though I suspect there's more to this visit than mere flattery."

The Boy hesitated for only a moment before speaking. "Your son's.....child, you are looking for her, right?"

Isadora's eyes flickered with an unreadable expression, the slightest twitch of her brow betraying her composed demeanor. She leaned back in her chair, her gaze never leaving The Boy's face, her fingers delicately tracing the rim of her teacup.

"My son's child...." she said, her voice smooth yet laced with a subtle edge. "I didn't tell a single person about searching for that child, let alone, their existence." She paused, studying him as if weighing his words carefully. "How did....you know about it?"

The Boy remained calm, meeting her gaze steadily, but his mind raced with the layers of truth he had uncovered. "Given the circumstances what your evil son has done, it wouldn't be surprising if a child is born out of such...crime, right? After all, the victim your son violated at that time...was young enough to have a kid." he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Isadora's fingers tightened around her teacup, her gaze narrowing slightly as The Boy's words landed with a quiet force. The air between them seemed to thicken with tension, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to show a flicker of vulnerability. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by her usual composure.

"You are quite bold, aren't you?" she said, her voice colder now, sharper. "To speak so openly of such matters."

The Boy didn't flinch. He had known this confrontation wouldn't be easy, but he had come prepared. "I'm not against anything, Miss Isadora," he replied calmly. "Your son was mentally ill, too unfit to take over the family business. You are not getting any younger, and you can't find someone qualified enough to take over such means. So you are merely limited to looking for that child to take over."

Isadora's eyes flickered momentarily with something that resembled a shadow of surprise—an almost imperceptible acknowledgment of the Boy's bluntness. She tilted her head slightly, as if reconsidering her previous assessment of him. The teacup in her hand remained steady, but her grip was now firmer, almost as though she were holding onto something that threatened to slip from her control.

"You are a perceptive one," she said quietly, her tone colder still, though tinged with grudging respect. "But you seem to misunderstand one thing."

The Boy tilted his head, urging her to continue, but he knew the moment he was in—it wasn't just about power or control anymore. Isadora was testing him. He had walked into her lair, and now she would see how much of the game he truly understood.

"I....am dying." Isadora continued, her body slumped a bit as she reveals this to him.

The words hung in the air like an unexpected blow, chilling the atmosphere between them. The Boy, despite his composure, felt a flicker of something—surprise, perhaps, or maybe a quiet kind of dread—run through him. He had anticipated many things from Isadora, but this? This was different. It was a vulnerability he hadn't expected, and for a moment, she appeared smaller—human, even.

The sharp edges of her usual poise seemed to falter as she spoke those words, and the weight of them lingered between them like an unspoken challenge. The Boy did not respond immediately, taking a moment to process her admission. He had always thought of Isadora as someone who seemed immune to the frailties of life, a woman of absolute power and will. The notion that her time was limited—like anyone else's—was a truth that shifted the entire dynamic of their conversation.

"I... am dying," she repeated, her voice steadier now, as if she had prepared herself for this moment. "The physicians say I have little time left. There is no cure, no miracle that can reverse this. My strength is failing, and with it, the empire I've built. And I don't mind that, really. Everyone has to die at some point in life."

The Boy remained silent, his mind racing, the gravity of her statement pressing down on him. He was no fool—he knew how fragile power could be, how swiftly it could slip away, even from those who seemed untouchable. But this... this was personal. This was a woman who had clawed her way to the top of a dynasty, and now she faced the inevitable collapse of everything she had worked for. The truth of her mortality was undeniable.

Her eyes met his again, but this time, they were different—softer, almost resigned. Yet beneath that, there was a steely determination. "Tumor in the brain, at a dangerous location, doing it will make me a vegetable. 2 years left. I don't mind if I have to adopt someone to takeover, because I barely cared if anyone has my blood or not. As long someone is qualified to do so, I would be more than happy to hand over the reigns. But...."

She turned to face him fully now, her gaze unwavering, sharp as a blade. "Your damn fiance's family, the way they are running the country to ruins, as well as the way they are pushing their damn spoiled children to be adopted into this family....."

The Boy's heart skipped a beat at the direction of her words. Clearly he was not expecting to hear any of this.

He had known that Ernestine was ruthless, but this revelation was even more unnerving. 

Damn that girl, she is already scheming to seize everything from her!? How greedy can she get!?

His eyes narrowed as Isadora continued, her voice still sharp, her fury barely contained beneath the surface.

"I know...you can't do much, especially how she was able to throw your father and step-mother with ridiculous charges," she spat, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "And I know you are probably telling me to not look for the 'child' to take over, in case Ernestine went her way to wipe out their existence, but no. I won't be stopped. As long as that brute is here, and as long as I am alive, I will make sure that greedy prick never gets her hands on what's mine, especially it is for their selfish plight!" Isadora hissed.

She walked to the window, her back to him now, her silhouette framed by the faint light from outside. For a moment, the weight of her words hung in the air, a silent challenge that neither of them could ignore. "You didn't come here to simply say you want to help me find my child without something in return, right?"

"Of course," The 5-year-old answered in return.

"A child like you who is born with everything," she said slowly, almost testing the weight of her own words, "What do you need that not even all the money in the world could buy?"

"Freedom."

Isadora froze, her posture stiffening ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, the world outside the window seemed to fade, and her sharp mind turned inward. "Freedom," she repeated softly, almost as if testing the word on her tongue, her back still to him.

A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, but it was a bitter, humorless thing. She turned back to face him, her piercing eyes narrowing as they locked onto the boy before her. "You, a child born with privilege, with the power and influence of your family behind you, dare to speak of freedom? Are you....being ungrateful?"

The Boy didn't flinch. His small stature and youthful features might have made him appear fragile, but his gaze was steady, resolute. "No," he replied firmly, his voice carrying an unexpected weight. "But....this future marriage with Ernestine....I can't continue to live like this."

Before Isadora could react, her face faltered, replaced by a look of faint surprise and shock as he unbutton his shirt, revealing more bruises.

The sight of the bruises stunned Isadora into silence. Her cold, sharp demeanor momentarily cracked, replaced by an expression of genuine shock. Her gaze lingered on the dark marks that marred the boy's pale skin—silent evidence of violence endured behind closed doors. For a long moment, the room was engulfed in an oppressive stillness, the kind that pressed against the walls and made every sound seem deafening.

The Boy buttoned his shirt back up with a calmness that belied the weight of his actions. His small hands moved deftly, and his expression remained resolute, even as the tension between them grew unbearable. When he finally looked up at her, his eyes were clear and unwavering.

"My mother....as you can guess, is under Ernestine's thumb. She will make sure this marriage will take place," he said, his voice steady but carrying a sharp edge. "My father and step-mother....can't protect me anymore from her. So...."

Angered, Isadora yelled at her butler, "Theo, bring the oilment over!"

The butler, Theo, rushed into the room, his usually calm demeanor faltering for a moment as he took in the sight of the young boy's bruises. Without a word, he quickly disappeared into the adjacent room to fetch the ointment, leaving Isadora and the Boy alone once again.

Isadora's hands clenched at her sides, her gaze fixed on the boy's exposed skin. The usually unshakable matriarch seemed to waver, her fury simmering beneath the surface. It wasn't directed at the child before her, but at the situation—a culmination of greed, power, and cruelty that had reached even her doorstep.

"That damn witch!" she cursed under her breath to no one, more to herself than to him. "I know she did many terrible things when she married your father before the divorce, but for crying out loud! Even a mother tigeress won't do this to her own cubs!"

The Boy remained silent as Isadora seethed, her outburst filling the heavy silence of the room. She rarely allowed herself to display such emotion, but this—this was an affront she could not ignore. A child, bruised and battered, had been dragged into the games of adults who cared only for power and control. For all her ruthlessness, Isadora understood the line that had been crossed, and it enraged her.

Theo returned swiftly with the ointment, his hands steady as he placed it on the table between them. "Here, madam," he said quietly, his voice calm but edged with concern. Isadora took the ointment without a word, her sharp eyes never leaving the boy's face.

"Come here," she commanded, her voice gentler but still firm. The Boy hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer. Isadora knelt before him, a rare gesture of vulnerability, and carefully began to apply the ointment to his bruises. Her hands, usually so cold and calculating, were surprisingly gentle as they worked.

As she dabbed at his wounds, her lips pressed into a thin line, her mind racing. "I've tolerated many things in my life," she said quietly, almost to herself. "But this... this is unforgivable." Her voice hardened, as curiosity took over in a bit, "You said 'freedom', as in....breaking the engagement, right?"

"Yes."

Isadora's movements paused for a fraction of a second, the weight of the boy's answer settling between them. Her sharp eyes flickered up to meet his gaze. "Breaking an engagement with Ernestine won't be as simple as you think," she said, her tone calculated but tinged with something akin to concern. "That little girl has woven her web too tightly around your family. She won't let go without a fight."

The Boy met her gaze without flinching, his young face marked by an unsettling resolve far beyond his years. "I don't expect it to be easy," he replied, his voice calm but steady. "But in order to do so, I need to build up my own power. No power, no way out."

Isadora regarded him for a moment, her expression unreadable. The Boy's words carried an eerie maturity that unsettled even her—an aristocrat who had weathered decades of intrigue and betrayal. She resumed tending to his wounds, her movements precise and methodical, as though the act of care steadied her thoughts.

"You're not wrong," she said finally, her voice measured. "Power is everything in this world. Without it, you're nothing more than a pawn to be moved, used, and discarded." Her gaze flickered to his bruised face, and a shadow of something resembling pity crossed her sharp features. "But power alone isn't enough. You need allies, strategy, and above all, the ability to strike when the moment is right."

The Boy nodded, his resolve unwavering. "That's why I came to you," he said simply.

Isadora's hands stilled again, and she leaned back slightly, her sharp gaze locking onto his. "To me?" she echoed, her tone laced with both amusement and incredulity. "Why?"

"Let's put it this way....you don't like how the current royal family is running this country at the moment, right Miss Isadora?"

The Boy met her piercing gaze without flinching, his expression as composed as it was determined. "You never once gotten a noble title from them, let alone, make your stance as to who you support in ruling the nation, because you didn't want your family to be caught up in a political struggle at that time," he replied. "But now, royal families are nowadays ceremonial. There may no longer hold certain privileges in terms of politically taking the country to war and stuff, but this only would make the next generation want to become the next King and Queen the easy way.  I mean who wouldn't want to marry and live lavishly to one's content without doing a thing?"

Isadora's sharp eyes narrowed, she continue to dab his wounds as he went on, "I have someone in mind to take over the royal family legally. Someone more qualified. But in order to begin doing so, I would need to start somewhere, mainly with finding 'that child' your son conceived through evil means before you threw him in prison to take over your family business."

Isadora's movements grew even more deliberate, her gaze focused on the task of treating his injuries, but her mind was clearly elsewhere, absorbing every word he spoke. She could feel the weight of his audacity, the sheer boldness of his proposal, and for the first time in many years, she found herself intrigued.

"How do you know about that 'child' by the way?" she asked, her voice low, but the edge in her tone unmistakable. "Again, you have yet to answer my question. Also, how does this has anything to do with-"

"Considering Ernestine is targeting your family assets, as soon as you notified that someone has taken over, then her family will have no claims to any of it anymore. As to how I know of that kid's existence....well...."

Isadora's gaze sharpened as she noticed the Boy's cautious glance at Theo, her butler, who had been standing quietly in the corner of the room, his posture as impeccable as ever. The subtle movement caught her attention, she notified, "Theo, could you....stand outside the door for a moment?"

Theo hesitated for a brief moment, his ever-watchful eyes flickering between the two of them. But he was well-trained and accustomed to his role, and with a polite bow, he turned and exited the room, leaving Isadora and The Boy alone.

The door clicked shut, sealing the two of them in a space thick with unspoken tension. Isadora's gaze never left The Boy, her mind churning as she waited for him to continue after she was done dressing his wounds, waiting for him to put his clothes back on. Her fingers, which had once been tender and careful while tending to his wounds, were now steepled together, an indication of her growing impatience.

The Boy took a breath, his calm demeanor never faltering, though there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes before he spoke.

"Ernestine has a projector,"  he began slowly, choosing his words with care. "Let's just say...it showed me things that it shouldn't......."

..................................................................................................

 "THAT DAMN WENCH!"

The widower slammed her fist against the armrest, the sound reverberating through the quiet room. For a moment, she didn't speak, her gaze hard and unyielding as she tried to contain the fury building inside her. The Boy watched her, his face still calm but his eyes sharp, recognizing the dangerous potential of her outburst.

"That damn wench..." Isadora muttered again, her voice venomous. "I should have known. She is truly the incarnation from hell!"

The Boy remained silent, knowing better than to interrupt her when she was this enraged. He had learned early on that there were few things that could trigger the same level of fury in Isadora as her own family's betrayal or anyone threatening her carefully constructed plans. Ernestine's involvement in this was clearly a far greater offense than he had anticipated.

Isadora's grip on the armrest tightened, her knuckles turning white. "No wonder lately I kept having a bit more of her relatives pushing me to adopt their children to run our family business! To hell with them all!" Her voice was low but deadly, every word laced with the weight of the years she'd spent keeping secrets—secrets that now threatened to come to light, "She not only knew about the existence of 'that child', she won't even spare my own 2-year-old great grandson-"

"Great grand-daughter." The Boy corrected her.

"I am sorry!?" The woman blinked in confusion.

"Your great grand-daughter, not great grandson." The Boy insists, "That Kudo family kept having boys for so many generations, it ain't surprising why towards the end neither of the people you send were able to pinpoint and locate where is your son's family."

Isadora's eyes narrowed at the boy's words, as though testing their validity. The room seemed to grow colder, the air thick with an unspoken understanding between them. For a moment, she considered his words carefully, her mind racing through her own family's history, the tangled web of power, betrayal, and secrets that had shaped her life.

"A great granddaughter..." she muttered, the weight of the words sinking in while rubbing her chin thoughtfully, "So she didn't abort the child at all as I advise her, I see. I told her before that if she is found pregnant, she should abort it, so why.......?"

The Boy couldn't help but sigh at her words.

Truthfully, it wasn't strange to him as to why Isadora would tell her son's victim to abort the child. After such heinous crime, it made sense that Isadora would have wanted to erase all traces of the scandal.

One, a child who could serve as a potential threat to the Thornvale family's carefully constructed business image was pretty reasonable, given that the majority of their clientele involved a majority of aristocrats.  Sure, the kid didn't ask to be born, but it's pretty fair to say that the child won't live a smooth peaceful life without being looked down upon.

Two, it wouldn't be fair for the unfortunate child to deal with being taunted as a 'child of a monster' by other children, which The Boy is certain as a mother, there was no way Isadora was going to allow. The victim was a 17-years-old teenager after all, how is any of this fair to put her life on hold for motherhood?

And third, it wouldn't be fair to the victim being force to look after a child she didn't ask for, as it was conceive out of violence.

"Miss Isadora, if may be honest with you, the past can't be erase. And in the first place, you did everything you could as a mother to fix everything to the way things was," The Boy's voice cut through her thoughts, calm yet firm, "But it already happened, your granddaughter that you order to be aborted is not only alive, since the victim chosen to keep her without telling you, she has even build a family of her own, married, and is raising your great-grand-daughter. They....I hate to say this, but I have to, they are your last chance to prevent Ernestine from seizing everything you had build from ground up. Can you....bear the fact that Ernestine would simply use your last remaining heir as her own piggy bank?"

Isadora's expression tightened, her features becoming as sharp and cold as ice. The Boy's words, though carefully chosen, cut through her defenses. That thought was a terrifying prospect. But the reality of it, the undeniable fact that her bloodline had survived and the child was still out there, forced her to confront a truth she had long buried beneath layers of calculated indifference, with her gaze fixed on the floor.

She slowly raised her head, her eyes locking onto The Boy's, sharp and calculating. "Tell me," she said, her voice low and deliberate, "what do you suggest we do?"

The Boy paused for a moment before responding, his tone even but filled with the intensity of someone who knew what was at stake. "About the family, your grand-daughter family is currently living in Sootmire Alley."

"What!? That slum area!?"

Isadora's voice rose with disbelief and her expression flickering with shock. 

To those who are unaware, the victim's family used to live in this luxurious neighbourhood before the crime took place. Though she wasn't the favoured child, the last thing Isadora would've guess was for the family to kick the victim out after she fell pregnant at 17!

Usually, if a teen from a wealthy aristocrat family in their neighbourhood fell pregnant, many scenarios would take place.

Getting pregnant under such situation will ruin one's honour.

The victim would have been discreetly removed from public view, the pregnancy quietly erased, and the child would either be hidden away or given to someone else to raise. The notion of this girl living in such a place was incomprehensible.

Of course, most of them depending on circumstances would simply opt for an abortion if all of the options were thrown out of the window, which should've been that straightforward in Isadora's opinion.

Considering this was a crime committed against the victim's will, adding that she wasn't in a favourable position within her family, Isadora assumed that the victim will do accordingly as advise given her situation at that time. Also, she pitied the victim, as based on interaction with her family members, she was clearly mistreated. Adding a baby will just make her life and child's life so miserable, it would've been better if she had simply ended it then, and avoided the life of scorn and hardship that would surely follow.

After all, the main reason she also suggested this in the first place had nothing to do with the image of the noble family, but also, the fact that Isadora can't live with the harsh truth that her son have committed a sin so grave, that it would have been easier to erase all evidence of it. The thought of a child born from such a violent act—her son's actions—was unbearable to her, and the idea of forcing the victim to live with that reminder seemed cruel, even if it was a part of her own bloodline. 

She wants to shield the victim from a world that would not be kind to her, or to the child, who would forever be marked by the circumstances of their birth.

Yet, fate had other plans.

Sootmire Alley, after all, was no ordinary neighborhood. It was a place where the city's most desperate and forgotten people lived. The kind of place where crime festered, and only the most hardened survived. 

And the reason she knew of this place better than anyone, is because she used to live there with her estranged mother.

Now, that same place, which she had long since abandoned, was where her great-granddaughter was living—an innocent child, caught in a cycle of violence and poverty that Isadora herself had escaped. 

But all of that is nothing, comparing to the possibility that the child's mental development could've be severely affected. 

In Sootmire Alley, children were rarely given the chance to dream beyond survival. Anyone who lived there lack aspirations. Money is tight, so the adults often leave for work, leaving their children back at home. With no one around to guide them during their primitive years, they often rely on tv to keep themselves accompany, as it wasn't advisable to play outside with the other children due to how dangerous the living conditions are. 

Worst, the shows coming from the tv were not doing any favours.

Most of the cartoons often portrayed the heroine or hero who lack education manage to strive and overcome all odds, often with violence or sheer cunning, making them heroes in the eyes of children who had no real understanding of morality. The lines between right and wrong blurred, as they grew up in a world where survival often required sacrifices that normal society would deem immoral. In such an environment, ideals like kindness, compassion, and justice often had little place.

And then, there was school. If there was any mention of education at all, it was often accompanied by groans and frustration. The children knew what awaited them: endless homework, tests, and a rigid, monotonous schedule. They had little to look forward to, as school wasn't a place where their minds could flourish, but rather a place where they were forced to adhere to rules that had little meaning in their world. 

For them, the idea of education was a burden, a system that didn't seem to understand the realities they faced. Why bother with school when survival was more pressing? When they returned home from a long day, it wasn't the lessons from class they recalled, but the sense of dread and boredom that weighed on them.

To put it bluntly, the message that the children came across was: School isn't a happy place for them as it is filled with endless homework and tests, it's better not to go to a place that make's one unhappy. Plus, it is boring.

And realistically: Isadora can't argue against it, because it is true.

Now, the question Isadora had to answer was this: given how things ended up, it wouldn't be surprising if her son's family refuses to go with her. She can't force somebody after all to take over the reigns of the family estate, not to mention, Isadora is certain that the victim's daughter who is also her own grand-daughter would want anything to do with them, especially after how things played out.

Isadora sat back in her chair, the weight of the situation bearing down on her. She had spent her entire life safeguarding the family's legacy, building an empire that had been meticulously crafted over generations. But now, her power and influence were slipping through her fingers like sand, all because time is not only becoming limited for her, but also, the greed of Ernestine's family, who were closing in on her assets like vultures. 

At the same time.....

The widower looked at the little boy before her, he wasn't wrong when he said Ernestine is very like to monopolize the family if it means seizing the assets. While it's true, Isadora could simply just not give in and leave the family to suffer under Ernestine's thumb, the last thing she would want is to watched her great grand-daughter Ranran become her puppet.

After all, Isadora despises the thought of anyone, especially innocent children becoming Ernestine's form of entertainment.

The way Ernestine plan to not only subject Ranran to a life filled with ridicule and misery, and to top it off, in the future to profit of her tragedy was beyond abhorrent.

To make matters worst? The present timeline Ernestine who came up with all of this? Is a 5-year-old.

That damn vile thing, she isn't a little princess, but a Satan of hell!

Isadora clenched her fists, her knuckles whitening as she stared out the window of her study. It's one thing to be cunning, since a lot of aristocrats she meets tend to have them to thrive while she herself is self-admittingly one, but it's another if that cunningness is wielded with such malevolence, especially by a child as young as Ernestine who is already showing signs of a legit psychopath.

"A monster in the guise of a little girl. How can such being even exists!" Isadora felt a swell of anger rise within her, hotter and more ferocious than anything she had felt in years.

She can't remain seated here anymore, she has to do something!