Chapter 890: Chapter 890: Discovered the Presence of Nono
Lyle Westbrook’s face was icy, and even though his features were normally comforting like a spring breeze, his stern expression didn’t make him seem overbearing. However, nobody dared to take him lightly because of it.
If a year ago, when this man had just returned to the family dynasty, they might have been deceived by his face and demeanor that seemed to lie to the world, then after more than a year, they had fully witnessed this man’s methods.
He wasn’t domineering; often he even appeared easy to talk to.
Yet, once someone crossed his bottom line or broke the rules he had set, the consequences were unimaginable!
Thus, they truly revered this man from the bottom of their hearts, and even feared him.
“Young Master Lyle, how should we deal with this child? Should we send her to the police station, or to the orphanage?” the bodyguard asked, steeling himself.
Wyndham Howell—no, Lyle Westbrook was about to instruct his men to take her to the orphanage.
Suddenly, the wailing little girl looked up, her blurred eyes opening as she turned her gaze towards him—
His heart felt as if it had been struck by something, and his gaze abruptly filled with emotion.
Those eyes, he had seen them once in someone he used to know; they were clear, bright, gentle yet stubborn, resilient beyond his imagination.
Seeing no response from him, the bodyguard called out again, “Young Master Lyle, the child…”
“Uh, the clothes on this child are a bit dirty.”
The bodyguard dared not disobey his command and slowly handed over the child in his arms, Giselle Lawrence.
Giselle Lawrence had been ill, her body uncomfortable, and she had fallen into a deep, troubled sleep. When she awoke, she found herself in a small, pitch-dark room, where she recognized no one, and began to cry softly. Abruptly, she was lifted from the darkness and cradled into a warm embrace, and she stopped crying at once. She clung to the man’s collar tightly, as if afraid of being left behind, her cheeks round, and her big, black-and-white eyes red and swollen like a little rabbit’s from crying, she whimpered sadly, “Wine…”
Lyle Westbrook didn’t understand what she meant, but when he heard her childish voice, he inexplicably felt a certain fondness.
Giselle Lawrence called out once and seeing that he didn’t react or pay attention to her, felt even more aggrieved. She pouted, sniffed her little nose, but did not cry. With big eyes, she clutched at him tightly, filled with a sense of dependency, and again cooed to him, “Uncle.”
This time her pronunciation was clearer.
Other than Lyle Westbrook, there were a dozen or so bodyguards in the room. They watched, dumbfounded, as the little girl, unafraid of strangers, clung to their Young Master and kept calling him “uncle,” leaving them petrified.
When did Young Master Lyle have such a young niece?
Was Patrick tired of living? How dare he kidnap Young Master Lyle’s niece? What had the Young Master offered him to bolster such audacity?
Giselle Lawrence whimpered a few more times, “Wine… Uncle… Lawrence… Hot…”
She could only blurt out words one at a time, but it was clear she was smarter than the average child; even if she only knew single words, she already knew how to express herself. Though, it sounded like an alien language to the listeners.
But Lyle Westbrook understood.
He furrowed his brows and reached out his hand to touch the little girl’s forehead.