Fake heiress Real heroine

Chapter 143 Chapter 143 Flora instinctively wanted to nod, but upon reflection, she and her husband had started as complete strangers.

He was her first man and the father of her first child, so she naturally considered him her lifelong partner. 'But does this relationship count as love?' Flora was once again perplexed. "I, I don't know." Quinlyn, with limited emotional experience, couldn't offer much help and only suggested she think it through. Women in this place had long been suppressed in thought, their minds focused solely on household chores and childcare. Contemplating the future would be a major challenge for them.

+58) After bathing, Quinlyn had no clothes, so Flora fashioned a dress from an old sheet. It turned out too big, making Quinlyn look like she was wearing a burlap sack, complete with a large bow on her head.

Stanley appraised it, “You look like a giant moth." Larry kicked him and comforted Quinlyn, "Don't worry, you're the prettiest moth here." Quinlyn was unimpressed. But she didn't refuse their kindness. She thanked Flora and went outside.

The streets were busy with villagers bitten by dogs. Most had been treated, but a few sat with bandages oozing blood, looking wretched.

Seeing Quinlyn, they showed clear avoidance and fear.

They avoided her because they felt guilty. If Quinlyn testified, their crimes would be exposed.

However, their fear stemmed from her formidable fighting ability.

When faced with rabid dogs in the cage, they realized how helpless they were and how desperate the women who died before her must have felt.

Yet Quinlyn had killed ten rabid dogs unscathed. If she sought revenge, none of them would leave the village alive. Thinking of this, they preferred prison, at least they would stay alive.

Soon, many cforward to confess.

Sam, who was taking statements, was puzzled until he saw Quinlyn, dressed oddly and standing out.

He happily approached her. “Little informant, I heard you're up. We were planning to visit you tonight. I'm your fan; could you sign this for me?" Quinlyn eyed the notepad, wondering if it was proper to use a police-issued item for a personal request, but then noticed a familiar tall, middle-aged man with broad shoulders and a straight back walking steadily.

She had watched him secretly during his arrests. Now, golden dusk light fell on his head, highlighting streaks of gray in his hair.

"Quinlyn?" Marvin approached Quinlyn and said, lowering himself to her level.

"Hello, Officer," Quinlyn responded, looking up at him.

They had never formally exchanged names. Quinlyn had always addressed him as "Officer" during their calls and meetings.

Their first encounter was on a winter night when Marvin was on duty. He received a call: "Is this a police officer? There are bad guys at the village entrance." 1/3 94% +58 Chapter 143 At that time, Quinlyn's voice was more immature. Affected by the cold, what she had said was unclear. It took several questions for Marvin to confirm the location and the suspects' description.

After a successful arrest, Quinlyn began to trust him. Calls grew frequent, and her reports becclearer. "Officer, a van with strange smelly meat inside just passed by." "Officer, I saw a white car at the stone monument in the village forest. The license plate number is..." Their cooperation spanned from winter to summer and back to winter. Marvin's position rose, and he gained more subordinates. Yet, he kept the direct line to Quinlyn in his new office, rejecting offers for a dedicated receiver.

Sometimes, Quinlyn had moments of uncertainty.

"Officer, where do people go when they die? To heaven? My teacher jumped into a river; she wasn't happy here. Would she be happier in heaven?" "Officer, they promised to take their daughter to the hospital, but why did they kill after I let them go? Was I wrong? What's right?" "Officer, I miss Matthew. He said living gives hope, but where is that hope?"

Marvin felt a deep affection for Quinlyn, a child he had never met. He had wanted to bring her to his side many times, even discussing with his wife how they would treat her like their own. But Quinlyn had always refused, saying, "I will have a home. Just like you, everyone has a place that belongs to them, and I will too." Quinlyn was both adorable and stubborn. Now, face to face, Marvin sighed, "You've grown so much." He lifted his big hand to touch her head but, seeing the bandage and remembering her injuries, asked instead, "May I hug you?" Despite meeting for the first time, Quinlyn felt no strangeness. She nodded and opened her arms. Marvin's eyes crinkled with warm lines as he knelt and gathered her into his strong embrace.

Quinlyn was alarmingly thin for a 10-year-old; most children her age, O if better nourished, Would be much taller. His muscular arms almost encircled her as if she were a sheet of paper. It was hard to imagine how this child had lived alone on the border and assisted the police in fighting crime.

A lump formed in Marvin's throat, and he said hoarsely, "Thank you, our little hero." Quinlyn only murmured softly in response, as she never complained about her hardships. She rested her cheek on his broad, solid shoulder, feeling the warmth despite the cold medals.

Since Matthew's death, Marvin had been her closest person, teaching her to read, Morse code, and listening to her troubles on lonely nights.

When she heard about the offer of adoption, Quinlyn was happy. She had even visited Marvin's home, where his wife was kind and warm.

But she overheard Marvin's daughter arguing with her mother on the a street. "I don't want a sister. She's not "don't my real sister. Why should she cto our house? I don't want her! If you take her in, I'll go!" Quinlyn realized that her arrival might not be welcomed by everyone. She understood that being adopted meant becoming 2/3 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1 mmMwWLliIofiflo&1 mmMwWLlilofiflo&1