"Where are they?"
"Aunt, I think they're at their old ways again."
Penelope frowned, holding the little boy's hands delicately. "It's times like this that I wish I could throw your uncle over a bridge."
The boy said nothing, only furrowing his forehead.
He might think he looked fierce, but for the many servants who tidied him up daily, he would always look super cute to them.
Oliver sighed like an old man with countless thoughts.
He did love his uncle with all his heart. But he was closer to his aunt and looked up to her more.
As for his twin sister, Gwen, she, on the other hand, seems to have inherited his uncle's unreliable nature.
Oliver doesn't remember much about his birth and his younger self, but everyone says that when he was born, he hardly made a sound growing up.
He only cried when he was hungry or in need of clean diapers. In short, people only heard his wails when necessary.
