The Love that Never Really Dies

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?

now,” she replied, confused. Matteo beamed; his chubby cheeks becoming round. “Okay! Thank you, pretty lady. I’ll be going now!” “Where are you going? It’s too dangerous for you to be alone. Let me walk you back to the restaurant, or your father is going to panic

recognized him as “Mr. Ian”, and he wanted to see for himself

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 the penthouse suite of

in the dust, making his way to the hotel’s restaurant on the fourth floor. Ian was sitting like the perfect gentleman

as he asked his father’s assistant, “Mr. Scott, when can we go home?” Ian and Matteo

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 is he always as

be cured?” Luke told Ian. The young boy was silent for