Chapter Twelve – The Price of his Freedom.

Evelyn slammed her hands in the table abruptly. Her hands ached as it was a wooden table but her anger subdued her pain.

“Stop messing with our brains. Where’s the dead-now-revived boy, huh!” she looked like she’d hit the old man. Lydia looked calm.

Sylvester didn’t look threatened at all by her rage, he had the exact words for her.

According to him, the acclaimed boy was now a servant of the priest. It was a Buddhist priest, more or less a monk, and the boy was a servant there.

To retrieve the boy is only by adoption and a huge amount...