The Love that Never Really Dies
Chapter 10
An hour later, Matteo arrived at the Hilton hotel.
Even though he was smart for his age, he was still a kid, so it took some time for him to arrive at his destination. Thankfully, he quickly spotted a car in the hotel parking lot that was the same one the men in black had driven when they took his mother away from the hospital. His heart skipping a beat in excitement, he made his way to the hotel lobby.
“Hi, pretty lady! I’d like to ask who that car outside belongs to?” The receptionist, a young woman, lowered her head to see an adorable five-year-old boy standing on his tiptoes and peeking over the counter.
With a fluffy head of dark hair and large, curious eyes, he looked like a handsome young protagonist from a Disney animation. Isn’t… Isn’t this Ian, the young boy who lives in our hotel’s penthouse suite? She stammered, “Mr. I-Ian? Why are… you here? Weren’t you just at the restaurant?”
Huh? Mr. Ian? Matteo quickly picked up that something was off. So, he pulled a tall stool over and climbed onto it, resting his elbows on the reception counter as he smiled brightly at the young woman whose cheeks went red. “That’s right! I just came out for a minute. Oh, do you know who the car outside belongs to, miss?
it when he came home just now,” she replied, confused. Matteo beamed; his chubby cheeks becoming round. “Okay! Thank you, pretty lady. I’ll be going now!” “Where
receptionist scrambled out of her seat, worried that the boy might get lost if he left the hotel premises. But Matteo wasn’t about to let that happen. She had recognized him as “Mr. Ian”, and he wanted to see for himself what the real Mr. Ian looked like. During class yesterday, his
kid in the photo looked like Matteo, but his name was “Ian.” When he got home and hacked into the preschool principal’s computer to search for more information about Ian, the registered address was
his way to the hotel’s restaurant on the fourth floor. Ian was sitting like the perfect gentleman in the middle of the fancy restaurant, dressed in a small, tailored suit and a
of him; his expression one of impatience as he asked his father’s assistant, “Mr. Scott, when can we go home?”
like his father, or maybe worse. Ian was not talkative, and he didn’t like being around other people because of his antisocial personality. He had been raised by Sebastian to act prim and proper at all times. There wasn’t a single trace of naivety or immaturity that should be found in a normal five-year-old. “Tsk, so that’s Mr. Ian? I really do look like him. But
mumbled to himself, feeling sorry for the other boy. “We can’t go home yet, Ian. We came here to look for a cure for your father’s illness. Don’t you want your father to be cured?” Luke told Ian. The young boy was silent for a few moments. It was obvious that he still cared for his father greatly. “Then the woman whom he