Chapter 88

She knocked on the first door. A sallow-faced woman opened it. “Who are you looking for?"

Marguerite stepped forward with a smile. "Excuse me, do you know which room Aaron lives in? He's a high school student with long hair that covers his eyes." Living in the same apartment, they were bound to know each other.

"Oh, you mean that kid? He and his mom moved out around three or four this morning."

Marguerite frowned. "Do you know where they went?"

The woman shook her head. "No idea."

"One step forward, two steps back. What a bargain," Marguerite muttered, her smile more pained than her life story. That little brat. When I get my hands on him, I'm going to give him a taste of the belt.

The thin woman didn't understand her slang. "They didn't have much choice," she added with a sigh. "A man came by last night making a scene. Beat his mother half to death, and the kid got hurt, too."

"What?" Marguerite's eyes widened. "There's a man involved? Is it Aaron's father?"

The woman shook her head again. "I don't know. They've lived here for years, and I've never seen a father come around."

A shadow fell over Marguerite's enchanting eyes. It seemed Aaron's situation was far more complicated than she had imagined.

As they left the building, Marguerite was so preoccupied with thoughts of Aaron that she didn't even notice the fat man from the stairwell had vanished. The air outside was a welcome relief from the stuffiness within, and she took a deep breath.

"This slum is huge. It's going to be hard to find someone here, isn't it?" she asked Nancy.

Nancy nodded. "There are two or three hundred thousand people living here. They could be hiding in any nook or cranny."

"Is there a police station around here? Can I file a report?" Aaron was with his mentally unstable adoptive mother, they likely hadn't moved far

from this area. The cost of living anywhere else was exponentia!! higher.

"You can," Nancy said, "but the police might not take it seriously. There are so many fights and brawls here every day, they can barely keep up."

Marguerite frowned, her gaze falling on a small noodle shop across the street where several cockroaches were brazenly scurrying across the floor. Her long, curled lashes cast a beautiful shadow on her cheeks.

George had a charity fund here, and Nancy had said he might have grown up in this area. Could he help? If he called the local police station, they would surely pay attention.

Marguerite wasn't one to ask for favors, preferring to handle things herself. But in a situation like this, asking for help might be the most direct solution. She decided she would ask him when she saw him that evening.

As she and Nancy walked toward the edge of the slum, a flashy sports car screeched to a halt by the roadside. Joshua, dressed in a blue suit, stepped out. His eyes widened when he saw Marguerite emerge.

He had gone to Westside High, only to be told by his private investigator that Marguerite had headed to the slums. He had no idea what she was doing a place like this, but he detested the slums and had decided to wait for her outside.

Now, finally seeing her, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He strode toward her,

his voice trembling slightly. "Marguerite!"

Marguerite was equally surprised to run into him here. It was the first time she'd seen him in person since she'd arrived in this time, and his hairline was indeed higher his hair noticeably thinner. He felt like a

complete stranger. .

As he drew closer, she forced a smile, unsure of what else to do. “Joshua. Long

time no see. Where are you making your fortune these days?"