The girl truly resembled Ilona in miniature, especially her brilliant blue eyes. The little girl had Ilona’s eyes, but not her gaze. The light shining from them was filled with pain and loneliness. Every time Nicolas looked at her, it was like staring into a mirror of his own suffering.
"Really. Come on, I’ll take you home now."
He reached for the little hand and helped her stand. But the child only cried out in greater pain. She had sprained her ankle when she slipped while trying to escape the police. Nicolas had no choice but to bend down again. He tried to massage the injured tendons. He was no longer France’s public executioner, but all his knowledge of treating injuries remained perfectly intact. They had been experts at inflicting wounds—and treating them.
"Does it feel better now?"
The little girl nodded. Her sapphire-blue eyes held a mixture of wonder and admiration. After practicing pickpocketing on the streets several times, this was the first time she had run into bad luck and been caught by the police. Yet she had been rescued by the very victim she had tried to rob.
"Come on, show me where you live. I’ll carry you home."
"Home?"
"Yes, home. Your parents must be worried, right?"
"I... I don’t have a home. I... don’t have any parents."
THUD!
Nicolas rolled his eyes. No home? No parents? Did this child live all alone?
“Then where have you been staying all this time?”
The little girl lowered her head. She sobbed uncontrollably.
“Tell me. I’ll take you there,” Nicolas said earnestly.
The little girl looked up again. She glanced left and right as though afraid someone was watching her.
“I’m scared, sir. The big boss will be furious. I’ll get beaten. Sniff.”
Nicolas grew even more worried. Was this child being exploited and forced to steal?
“Is that person here?”
The little girl glanced toward the corner of the street. Suddenly, she went rigid.
Nicolas understood it all too well.
“Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.”
Morris Heaven Orphanage
Nicolas swallowed as he read the sign from across the street. The little girl in his arms had suffered a loss at an extremely young age—far younger than he had been. A ten-year-old who had never known who her parents were... he couldn’t even imagine it.
“Anneliese lives here?”
“Yes, but this isn’t just Anne’s home. It’s home to a lot of people.”
Now the little girl even dared to say her own name when she spoke. It was a sign that she was beginning to feel comfortable with the stranger carrying her. Nicolas hadn’t done much. He had simply kept her talking all the way there, allowing the tiny girl to slowly tell her story and open up. Truly, Nicolas was amazed by such a pure portrait of innocence.
“Why did Anne run away from here? It’s much safer here. If Anne leaves, she’ll run into those bad people again. They’ll make Anne pick pockets again.”
“Sniff...” Anneliese began sobbing again.
Oh God, why was she crying again?
Nicolas didn’t know how to act. He had never dealt with a child before. This was his first experience—and the most confusing one yet.
“Anne’s scared...”
“Scared of what?”
“Anne’s scared the orphanage matron will be angry because Anne ran away.”
Tears streamed down her soft, smooth cheeks. Nicolas wiped away the tears at both corners of her eyes, admiring his own reflection in them. Good heavens, those really were Ilona’s eyes. They were exactly the same!
“Calm down. I’ll persuade the orphanage matron not to be angry.”
“You won’t tell her Anne’s a pickpocket, will you?”
“There’s one condition.”
“What?”
“Anne can’t run away from here again. Promise?”
The little girl sobbed silently. She seemed uncertain. But slowly, she nodded.
“Good girl.”
Nicolas gently stroked the little girl’s blond hair. At first, he had wanted to ruffle it playfully. Instead, he caressed it tenderly, as though it were Ilona’s hair—the hair he had never once touched. Was it wrong for him to see Ilona in her? But this little girl was far too tiny to be compared with the lover he had lost.