Chapter 133

Jonathan’s voice was calm. “It’s just a small matter. Talk to Claude about it later.”

“Uncle, you’re the best,” Preston said, leaning on Jonathan’s shoulder like a child, acting spoiled. Jonathan affectionately patted his head.

Their relationship was strange. His relationship with Whitney had been terrible for decades, but with Preston, it was different. Preston, seven years younger and only twenty-one that year, had been handed over to a nanny after Whitney divorced right after his birth. Driven by revenge against Aaron and Yulana, she completely neglected her newborn son. Preston cried constantly, his voice hoarse from the incessant weeping. Nanny after nanny failed to soothe him.

Then, something remarkable happened. Seven or eight-year-old Jonathan picked up the one-month-old baby. Preston, who had been wailing moments before, instantly stopped crying and even smiled. From that moment, their fates intertwined. Preston practically grew up following Jonathan. From age one to five, he was Jonathan’s shadow, clinging to him despite the abundance of people in the Bennett manor.

When Preston was six and Jonathan thirteen, Whitney, suddenly remembering her son, was furious to see him so attached to Jonathan. She relentlessly convinced Clifford to send Jonathan abroad, soon followed by Preston. Though they saw each other infrequently afterward, Preston would secretly video-call him. Their bond remained strong, perhaps even stronger than Preston’s relationship with Whitney.

Whitney, highly controlling, planned for Preston to inherit both the Bennett and Sullivan family businesses. Her strictness fostered rebellion in Preston, but she blamed Jonathan for his defiance. To Preston, Jonathan was more than an uncle; he was a brother, father, teacher, and role model—his most trusted confidant.

Leaving the LunaSea Club, Jonathan wanted to drive Preston home, but Preston refused. “You’re driving a one-of-a-kind Maybach. Parking it in a rundown, soon-to-be-demolished neighborhood might raise suspicion. I’ll take a cab. Goodbye,” Preston said, waving lightly, backpack slung over his shoulder.

Preston’s smile was bright; under the streetlights, he seemed to shimmer like gold. Even Jonathan sighed, thinking youth was wonderful. His own teenage years had been filled with schemes, darkness, plots, and manipulation, but Preston’s were bright, sunny, happy, and carefree—he even enjoyed the beauty of love.

Jonathan knew Preston’s identity was special. His future partner likely wouldn't be a matter of personal choice; Whitney would probably arrange a political marriage with a suitable high-society girl. Regardless, Jonathan would support Preston, provided the girl wasn't deceitful.

Returning to Splendid Garden, Preston found Cynthia gone. He waited until nearly midnight, but she still hadn't returned; her slippers remained untouched the next morning. Preston helped Rachel, who sold breakfast at the school gate, pushing the cart and even selling. His handsome presence attracted a crowd, selling out in half an hour instead of three. Afterward, he helped pack up. Rachel saved him some quinoa cakes, which he ate gracefully even while performing manual labor.

“Rachel, what’s your relationship with Cynthia?” Preston asked, wiping his mouth. He continued helping and chatting. He was curious about Cynthia, especially her living situation in a rundown area despite her apparent wealth.

Rachel smiled. “You could say I’m like her aunt.”

Preston, piecing together online information, stated, “Rachel, you’re Cynthia’s biological mother, aren’t you?”

Rachel sighed. “Yes, but don’t mention this to her. I’m content as things are. I didn’t raise her, so I don’t expect acknowledgment.” Cynthia had never called her “Mom,” but occasionally called her Rachel, which was enough. Seeing Cynthia was a gift.

“So, has Cynthia always lived here?” Preston asked.

Rachel shook her head. “She’s only been staying here for the past few days. She has her own place.”

Preston worried. Cynthia must have gone back to her own place yesterday. Will she return?

“Does she have a boyfriend?” Preston hesitated.

Rachel, surprised, answered honestly, “I don’t know. But from what I’ve seen, it doesn’t seem like she has one.” Girls in love usually made calls or went on dates, but she hadn’t seen any signs. Cynthia mostly watered her balcony plants.

Preston smiled, which made Rachel uneasy. “Do you…like Cynthia?” she asked.

Preston nodded honestly. “When I first met her in Friyx, I fell in love with her at first sight.”