Chapter 3 Adopted

Upon a glance, Dorothy noticed that the speaker was a small boy who looked to be only eight or nine years old.

He wore a blue and white sports uniform from school, with a red scarf tied around his neck.

This kid should be Logan, the son of his friend and comrade that Nicholas adopted, as depicted in the novel.

After shooting him a couple of glances, Dorothy withdrew her attention and continued limping forward, leaning against her crutch.

Logan became annoyed and blocked her path, "Hey, I've called you! Are you deaf or something?"

She casually responded, "So what? Who set the rule that I must respond when you call me?"

She wasn't the one who owed Logan an apology - it was the former host of this body, not her.

So rude while speaking, she really didn't give a damn.

"Ha, I know you want me to call you mother. Well, I can tell you, not in a million years!" Logan huffed coldly at her, wearing a face full of wariness.

Dorothy snorted lightly, "Like I care."

Logan: "?"

He was puzzled. This wicked woman had returned from her trip with such a strange attitude.

Exhausted after the day's troubles, Dorothy just wanted to rest. Walking past Logan, she went straight to open the door and entered the room. The lights were off, and she had to fumble around the wall for a while before she found the old-fashioned switch and clicked it on.

The warm yellow lights illuminated the room's furnishing.

A pair of burnt orange fabric sofas sat in the middle of the room. An ottoman was in the middle of the room, colonial style ceiling fans, Trinitron color televisions, and pear wood furniture cabinets with a strong retro feel could be seen. Resting on top of a cabinet was a radio.

The portrait of the president and a framed landscape painting of the Amazon forest and distant mountains hang on the wall.

The kitchen is on the far left, a large square wooden dining table is near the entrance, and to the right, a circular wooden staircase that leads to the second floor.

Honestly, this living environment gave Dorothy a bit of motivation for her future life.

If she returned home to find a house made of bricks walls with a dry toilet, she would faint.

The house seemed empty. Dorothy found the shoe rack, picked up a pair of slightly smaller white slippers, hobbled over to the sofa, and collapsed onto it.

At that moment, her tense emotions finally had a chance to relax.

"I'm finally alive..."

Dorothy lay sprawling, her feet propped up on the ottoman. Her toes were plump and fair, wiggling slightly.

Upon seeing her like this, Logan's face dropped. However, when his gaze caught sight of her leg wrapped in thick gauze, his mood instantly brightened, his voice evincing a hint of elation.

"Are you hurt?"

Seeing that he seemed to take joy in her misfortune, Dorothy became unhappy, "Hmph, it's just a minor injury."

Logan made no effort to hide his disappointment.

As he was about to return to his room with his bag, Dorothy hurriedly halted him. "Wait a minute, is there any water? Where is the water?"

The weather was hot, and after being busy for so long, Dorothy was thirsty. But she hadn't spotted a pitcher.

Logan glanced at her bandaged right leg, sluggishly walked to the table,took the pitcher, and poured her a glass of water.

Dorothy took the glass and took a couple of sips. The glass now was a yellow cup, decorated with flowers that looked like they were hand painted.

Coolness slid down her throat, and she subconsciously said "Thank you."

Logan chuckled: "No need, I don't want you to find another excuse to burn me with a cigarette."

Dorothy was immediately choked up.

Was the previous owner really so terrible? Did she do such a thing?

She glanced at Logan, who was still dressed in long sleeves and pants despite the hot weather, and hastily changed the topic.

"Where are your grandparents?"

Logan didn't want to answer, but to avoid having this woman making a hysterical fuss again, he reluctantly said, "Grandpa has gone to work and won't be back for a few days. Grandma has gone to a wedding banquet, she will be home late."

"Alright." Dorothy touched her flat stomach and asked, "Have you eaten?"

"I did," Logan's eyes flickered, saying, "Grandma brought us mushroom soup from the restaurant when she got off work. She asked where you had gone."

Dorothy: "Oh, where is the mushroom soup?"

She had brought the leftover lunch box from noon. But she didn't want to eat leftovers. Dorothy never shortchanged herself.

"I'll get them for you!" Logan immediately stood up and ran to the kitchen enthusiastically.

As Dorothy watched him, she thought, something's not right. Bare in mind, in the novel, Logan was engaged in an ongoing battle of wits with the previous owner. He disliked her immensely before he was abused by her, and used every method possible to try to drive her out of the Parker family.

If it was before, he would have either ignored her or picked a fight with her.

Now he is offering to warm up mushroom soup for her out of kindness?

Nicholas's mother, Elizabeth, works at the Women's Federation office and finishes work at four-thirty. The soup she brought home had long since cooled.

Logan skillfully moved a stool to stand on, then put the pot on the stove, poured the soup into the pot and turned on the fire to heat it.

Poor children are known to mature earlier.

While the Parker family isn't poor, and both Nicholas's father and mother were good to Logan, and Nicholas even treated him as his own, he didn't have any blood relation. Logan had been in this family since he was a young child, constantly making an effort.

He was only in the second grade of Elementary school now, but he already knew how to make some simple meals.

After heating the mushroom soup,Logan held the bowl with his hands, enduring the heat, and placed it on the table.

"It's ready to eat." He pointed at the bowl.

Dorothy leisurely walked over and sat down. She felt no shame in being served by such a young child.

She didn't rush to eat, but picked up her spoons and stirred the soup in the bowl leisurely.

Seeing this, Logan's heart nearly leapt out of his mouth.

"Eat quickly, it will get cold again soon," he urged.

Dorothy felt even more suspicious when she heard this. Would this brat possibly poison the soup?

She stirred the entire bowl carefully with a skeptical attitude, finally fishing out two large roaches from the bottom of the bowl.

Logan: "......"

Dorothy: "......"