Tell Me A Fairy Tale
Genevieve was so busy after arriving at work that she even forgot Armand had told her he was going
on a business trip to Baykeep when he went out.
It was not until she returned home that evening and waited but did not see him did she recall his words.
At night, she lay on the bed after her bath and suddenly felt that the bedroom was empty without him
by her side. In fact, she even felt a little bored.
She sat the cat plushie up straight, took a picture of it, and then sent it to Armand.
About five minutes later, he replied: What’s the matter?
Genevieve: I wish I could be this cat. I’d be a plushie without a mind or feelings. This way, I won’t miss
you.
Armand: I will return this Wednesday.
She sent him a sticker of an aggrieved expression with a text that read: But it’s only Monday now.
Wednesday is too far away.
Following that, she wrote: Sir, tell me a fairy tale to sleep. Don’t add whatever you want into that story.
Your Little Red Riding Hood story caused me to have nightmares for days.
After sending that message, she saw that his writing status remained “Typing…” for a while.
A long time later, Armand sent a very lengthy voice message.
She clicked on it eagerly and heard the man’s deep voice.
“Once upon a time, there was a king who had the prettiest daughter in the world…”
Genevieve placed her phone by the pillow. While hugging the cat plushie, she quietly listened to the
man’s fairy tale with her lips quirked up in a smile.
I knew it. The fairy tale I heard that afternoon was told by him.
At a certain semiconductor company in Uron, Patrick had the two computers on his desk running while
his fingers moved across the keyboard rapidly.
He did not slack off since arriving in Uron, etching the thing Genevieve had asked him to check on his
mind.
For the past few days, he had been searching for Samantha’s relationship network, starting his
investigation with those close to her. He hacked their computers, phones, and even the surveillance
cameras in their house, scouring for anything he could find.
Just the night before, he found a folder on a computer of a driver who worked for Samantha.
However, that folder was double encrypted.
When Patrick discovered that folder, he tried every means he knew to crack the encryption, so he had
been occupied with that till then.
Seeing that the folder had finally been decrypted, he wiped the sweat on his forehead and controlled
the cursor to open the only file in the folder, then the text document within it.
Patrick swiftly scrolled down the text document, and his pupils constricted after he read the content.
At that moment, a blonde man approached him.
“Patrick, this is the information you requested.” The man put a folder on the table and said in
Ustranasion, “Is this pregnant woman your friend? Her blood type is too rare. If they aren’t careful, two
lives might be lost…”
“Is it the Phnull blood type?” Patrick asked.
As he spoke, he picked up the folder and quickly opened it, directing his gaze to the column that listed
the blood type.
All of a sudden, he recalled something and tilted his head to look at his colleague, who had yet to
leave. “What do you mean by two lives might be lost?”
“Is it that hard to understand?” The latter scratched his head and continued, “If an accident happens
during the delivery, won’t the child’s life also be in danger? If she is indeed your friend, then you’d
better find someone with the same blood type and collect two units of blood as a precaution. However,
that’ll be a challenge since there are only a few people with this blood type in the whole world.”
Collect blood?
Patrick remembered that Genevieve once told him Timothy had a friend with that blood type and
needed her help.
Back then, he was puzzled as to why Armand chose Genevieve when they were so many ladies of
prominent families in Xedells and why Timothy asked her to donate blood when he knew she was not
in good health.
The mysteries were cleared up. Patrick finally understood everything he did not before.
Thinking of Genevieve, who cooperated with Timothy while being kept in the dark, the needle marks on
her thin, frail arm, and her pallid complexion when she was in Springwyn, Patrick felt like someone was
clutching his heart. It hurt so much that he could barely breathe.
He uploaded the decrypted file to his phone before frantically dashing out of the room with it.
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