My Pretty Sweetheart (Arianna)
Chapter 1918

I wondered if this was how the richest family took care of their six-year-old kid.

As the heir of the richest family, Wynn just standing there was too great a temptation for kidnappers to make a fortune of. I was nonplussed by the fact that there were no bodyguards following him. I approached him and squatted to talk to him. "Why are you here alone?"

Freya had asked me out on the spur of the moment. Even if Wynn is precocious, there was no way he could have foreseen our shopping plan and waited for me here in advance.

As soon as I finished my words, Wynn, who was more mature than a child of the same age, suddenly pouted and grabbed my little finger while saying piteously, "Mom, I got lost. I'm scared."

I became flummoxed.

I thought to myself, "Kid, you're a child prodigy who used your father's resources to make a clandestine appointment with a stranger. Additionally, your expression had been filled with delight a moment ago, but now, you've started to fishing for sympathy. That's not good!"

"Well, I'm here, and I won't let the bad guys take you away." I had no choice but to stretch out my hand and caressed his hair to reassure him. Afterwards, I took out my phone and asked, "Wynn, tell me your father's phone number."

Once I unlocked my phone, Wynn took it over. "Mom, let me do it. Dad is at work. I can't simply call him. I'd better send a text message to tell the bodyguards about where I am."

The little fellow then used his chubby little hands to operate my phone. Within a minute, the message was sent successfully.

"It's done, mom, Mr. Clark will pick me up later." Wynn handed my phone back to me with a proud expression.

I let out a deep breath, feeling emotionally exhausted.

When he was writing the text, I had seen everything he did clearly. It looked to be a piece of cake for him to key in the mall's address, and he didn't even hesitate when writing the address number. From the looks of it, he did not seem as frightened as he claimed at all.

I even had an inkling that he could get back to his home safely on his own.

Thinking of this, I decided to leave first. "Let's go. I'll take you to the mall security."

He tugged at my sleeve, and his face began to crumple into a look which was more pitiful than before. "Mom, are you going to leave me behind? I'm afraid of being alone..."

Women had a soft spot for children,

never mind a little one with cutely plump cheeks, who was deliberately acting pitiful. Though I could still assume a look of insouciance before, but at the moment, he had gotten me twisted around his little finger.

Anyhow, it wasn't Hendrix who was going to come later. It would do me no harm to stay with this child for little longer. Even if I went back

T.not

home earlier, there was nothing else for me to do other than to stare blankly at my house plants.

Therefore, I brought Wynn looking for somewhere we could wait.

When we walked past a fried chicken shop, Wynn stood outside the store, seemingly unwilling to leave. His dark eyes were fixed on the fries and hamburgers on the signboard.

I knew that children were always fond of tasty food, yet I was still confused. Did a child from a wealthy family also like junk food?

"Wynn, would you like to have some?" I asked.

"Yes." Wynn nodded calmly. "I'd like

to try it. Daddy never allows me to eat food like that." After saying this,

he turned his face to look at me. "He is very bossy, unreasonable, a fascist."

Hearing this, I was stunned for a moment. I remembered that day in Golden Roof Restaurant when he called his father "Mr. Racism". Alas, this was the story behind it. Wynn was rather bold to be addressing Hendrix like this way.

Noticing that I wasn't in agreement with him, he entreated me with a softened voice. "Mom, I'll only have one bite. I won't eat more, okay?"