CH-27: A Familiar Welcome

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Breakfast was served on the wide wooden dining table, bathed in pleasant rays of sunshine from the skylight sunroof above us.

Despite the serene atmosphere, an awkward silence lingered. Francesca and Fox sat quietly, their focus on their food. It wasn't that they felt uncomfortable around each other; rather, there simply wasn't much to discuss. Meanwhile, I devoured my portion of steaks without paying any attention to their lack of conversation.

Fox decided to skip the morning workout today since we spent most of the night on the plane, not getting much sleep. However, that didn't mean I would get any rest. He would find another time to fit that part of the routine.

Finally, my hunger subsided, and I relaxed, leaning back against the cushioned seat. I glanced over at Francesca, who was giving me a dubious look. Her face expressed a mix of surprise, disbelief, and awe.

"You just had 8 steaks in under 20 minutes." She blurted out, and I could understand the reason behind her emotional reaction.

"And...?" I asked, hoping she had a point to make.

"Isn't that supposed to be some kind of record?" She inquired, her gaze shifting toward the old man, who remained silent.

Fox savored each bite of his fish and chips, a satisfied smile gracing his lips as he chewed slowly, resembling a contented cow.

"I have hypermetabolism." I replied, keeping the conversation brief before directing my attention to her side of the table.

"Why haven't you touched anything from your salad?" I asked, pointing to the bowl of chicken and broccoli.

"I've lost my appetite." She shrugged, furrowing her brows.

"Well, that's just rude." Fox said, wiping his lips with a cloth. He narrowed his eyes on her. "Have some. I'm sure you haven't eaten anything since last night."

"No thanks, Fox. I'm really not hungry." She declined.

Fox sighed, accepting defeat. He closed his plate and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. His breaths grew shallower, as if he was feeling anxious.

"I made a call to the Thief Guild." Fox said.

Francesca stiffened and adjusted her seat, leaning closer to Fox with keen interest.

"They haven't heard anything about him." He shook his head, falling silent. However, she didn't take it well.

"What?!" Standing up she banged the furniture.

"Well, there's good news and bad news." Fox explained, unfazed by her assault on the innocent dining table.

"The good news is I'm sure it's not one of our old enemies." His gaze shifted to me, and he nodded. "They would have made a spectacle of him in the black market if they had caught him, which hasn't happened yet. It means your father is more likely in safe custody."

She sighed, appearing somewhat relieved.

"And the bad news?"

"The bad news is I have no idea whose custody he is in." Fox dropped the bombshell.

"So what are we going to do next?!" She asked, her tone reaching the roof.

"For now, I've spread the word." He replied with a worried expression. "Let's hope we hear something soon."

Francesca abruptly stood up, dragging the chair back with force. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she glared at Fox.

"Hope?" She scoffed. "You want me to sit still 'hoping' he's somewhere safe?"

Fox remained silent, clearly unable to confront her.

"I can't believe you." She pushed her bowl aside before storming out of the kitchen and exiting the house through the back door.

Fox couldn't find the words to respond and sighed, leaning back in his seat. I observed it all without much interest.

He seemed worried about his goddaughter and, at the same time, saddened by his friend's situation. I couldn't bear it any longer.

"Fuck it." I cursed under my breath as I slowly stood up.

I walked over to the refrigerator and opened the top rack, where I found a large container of ice cream. I grabbed a bowl and made my way out of the kitchen.

In all honesty, I didn't care much about Francesca and whether she was upset or not. It wasn't my problem. However, Fox was a different story.

I knew how grueling his training could be, and I despised every moment of it. But I also knew I needed it, and I wasn't willing to compromise my workout just because a teenage girl was having a breakdown.

Training under a depressed old man was not something I would wish upon my worst enemy.

And the easiest way to solve this problem was to cheer up the girl. I was confident it wouldn't be much of an issue.

I found her sitting alone in the garden, her back against a tree, her gaze fixed on the small pond, observing the ducks gracefully swimming in the water.

Her ears perked up, and she turned her head in my direction as I approached.

"Just leave me alone." She mumbled under her breath, loud enough for me to hear. However, I continued my approach, smiling as I took a seat relatively closer to her, while still giving her space.

"What part of 'leave me alone' don't you understand?!" She yelled, diverting her face away from me. Her breaths were in disarray, and she seethed with anger and frustration.

I allowed a few moments to pass, waiting for her to gradually calm down, finding the right moment to speak. In the meantime, I opened the tub of ice cream and scooped some into a bowl.

Tears streamed down her face as she hugged her legs against her chest, succumbing to her grief and starting to cry. Her back trembled with sorrow.

I took a deep breath and closed the remaining distance between us.

"Fox is doing everything he can." I tried to convince her, but it seemed like the wrong approach as she exploded with anger.

"Then where is my dad?!" She punched the ground, her voice filled with rage, and her eyes shot me a death glare. "Where is he?!"

"That's what he's trying to find, Francesca." I reached out my hand, placing it on her shoulder. But she swiftly swatted it away and stood up.

"No, he's not!" She said, glaring down at me, her eyes red and filled with despair. "He's just hoping! God, he's so stupid, and I can't believe I trusted an idiot like him to help!"

I won't lie; a part of me started to feel irritated by her irrational and self-centered behavior. However, another, more compassionate part reminded me that she was just a grieving kid.

"You wouldn't understand; you can't even comprehend how it feels. You would know if this happened to your dad."

Now she was crossing a line, but the compassionate part of me continued to calm me down. Getting angry at a kid like her would be pointless.

"No, I actually do understand." I sighed, slowly standing up.

"You do?" She scoffed, her eyes wavering with disbelief.

"Yeah." I smiled, leaning my back against the tree trunk and placing one leg against it, basking in the sunlight filtering through the leaves.

"You can't see it, but there's always this ache in your heart, like an invisible arrow stuck in your chest that you can never pull out." I spoke softly. "Sometimes it hurts more, sometimes less. It's just this gut feeling that constantly tells you something bad might have happened to them—a feeling that never goes away."

I looked down, noticing her wide-eyed shock.

"Like a hollow pit that never closes." I chuckled softly, witnessing her reaction.

"Y-your dad?" She asked, snapping out of her stupor.

"Died." I smiled. She immediately looked guilty, gasping for air.

I didn't actually miss Eddy's parents; what I described was exactly how I felt during those months away from the Parkers, hoping nothing would happen to them. However, I saw no need to correct her misunderstanding if it helped cheer her up.

"I-I'm sorry." She said, tilting her head down.

"No problem." I smiled, sighing once again. "You just have to understand, Fox is doing everything he can. Things don't work like in the movies; you can't just find somebody with a phone call. It's not that simple."

"I-I know." Her shoulders trembled as she covered her face. "It's... it's hard-"

"If it's hard, it means you love him." She looked up as I gave her a gentle smile. "If your dad was here, I'm sure he would tell you to be strong. If not for yourself, then for him."

She sniffed back her tears and slowly nodded.

I took a handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to her. She wiped away her tears and began to calm down.

"Thanks." She smiled.

"No problem." I smiled and flashed the bowl in my hand. "Ice cream?"

"Ha, sure." She chuckled tearfully and took a spoonful.

As I watched her enjoy the dessert from the bowl, an idea formed in my mind to further lift her spirits.

"You never had a Paris style welcome, right?" I asked.

"A what?" She inquired curiously.

"Oh, you're going to love this." A wide grin spread across my face as I smirked.

"Why are you smiling like that?" She asked, backing away.

—-----

"Ohhhhh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" She yelled as the car skidded through the main streets, narrowly missing a truck by an inch.

"Woohoo!" I exclaimed in joy, pressing the gas pedal even harder.

"Do you even know how to drive?!"

"Not really!" I shook my head.

"This is not fun!" She screamed in my ears as I skillfully maneuvered the car.

"You're right!" I nodded as I turned the car onto the road leading to the Louvre Museum. "But now, it's going to be!"

"Hahahaha!" I laughed like a maniac while Francesca continued screaming.

"Yes, they're here!" I yelled, glancing at the red and blue lights reflecting through the rearview mirror.

"Is it the cops?" She asked in bewilderment, looking back at the cars chasing us.

"Oh yeah!"

"I'm not going back to jail twice in the same day!" She cried out.

"Trust me, you won't!" I smiled.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I accelerated, skillfully navigating the narrow streets and dodging other vehicles.

The police cars pursued us, sirens blaring, but they struggled to keep up.

My heart raced as we sped through the city, narrowly evading capture by the authorities.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" She kept screaming every time we narrowly avoided a collision.

"Hahahaha!" But her screams only fueled my laughter.

"Truck!" She suddenly yelled, pointing at a reversing truck that I hadn't noticed until she pointed it out.

"Oh shit!" I quickly turned the steering wheel 180 degrees, causing the car to drift sideways. My eyes locked with the truck and the pursuing police cars.

The Bentley glided like butter in a pan, narrowly missing the large vehicle by a hair's breadth but effectively blocking the police cars, preventing them from continuing the chase.

"That was freaking awesome!" I exclaimed, unable to contain my excitement as I glanced at Francesca, who was catching her breath.

The scenery changed as we left the chaotic city behind. I was driving back to the mansion.

I looked at her, and she looked back, a smile slowly spreading on her face.

"Haha." I chuckled while she giggled.

"Hahahaha."

She playfully punched my arm, and we burst into laughter.

The car came to a stop as we reached the mansion, but our laughter didn't subside. I slowly stepped out of the car, and she did the same from the other side.

I placed my hand on the hood as our laughter gradually faded. She stood on the other side, still chuckling.

I gazed into her eyes, mine filled with satisfaction.

"Francesca, welcome to Paris." I smiled.

She blinked as her laughter died down, furrowing her brows as she looked at me, which made my eyebrows raise.

"Ethan, my name's not Francesca Fernandes." She said, squinting her eyes.

"My real name is Felicia Hardy."

Fuck! Now I understand why she looked so damn familiar.

I sighed, shaking my head.

"Edward Brock."