An hour later, Matteo arrived at the Hilton hotel.
Even though he was smart for his age, he was still a kid, so it took some time for him to arrive at his
destination.
Thankfully, he quickly spotted a car in the hotel parking lot that was the same one the men in black had
driven when they took his mother away from the hospital. His heart skipping a beat in excitement, he
made his way to the hotel lobby.
âHi, pretty lady! Iâd like to ask who that car outside belongs to?â
The receptionist, a young woman, lowered her head to see an adorable five-year-old boy standing on his
tiptoes and peeking over the counter. With a fluffy head of dark hair and large, curious eyes, he looked
like a handsome young protagonist from a Disney animation.
Isnât⦠Isnât this Ian, the young boy who lives in our hotelâs penthouse suite?
She stammered, âMr. I-Ian? Why are⦠you here? Werenât you just at the restaurant?â
Huh?
Mr. Ian?
Matteo quickly picked up that something was off.
So, he pulled a tall stool over and climbed onto it, resting his elbows on the reception counter as he
smiled brightly at the young woman whose cheeks went red.
âThatâs right! I just came out for a minute. Oh, do you know who the car outside belongs to, miss?â
âDoesnât it belong to your family? Your fatherâs staff was driving it when he came home just now,â she
replied, confused.
Matteo beamed; his chubby cheeks becoming round. âOkay! Thank you, pretty lady. Iâll be going now!â
âWhere are you going? Itâs too dangerous for you to be alone. Let me walk you back to the restaurant, or
your father is going to panic if he canât find you.â The receptionist scrambled out of her seat, worried that
the boy might get lost if he left the hotel premises.
But Matteo wasnât about to let that happen.
She had recognized him as âMr. Ianâ, and he wanted to see for himself what the real Mr. Ian looked like.
During class yesterday, his teacher had shown them a photo of a kid who was transferring to their
preschool. The kid in the photo looked like Matteo, but his name was âIan.â
When he got home and hacked into the preschool principalâs computer to search for more information
about Ian, the registered address was the penthouse suite of the very Hilton hotel that Matteo was
currently at.
He sprinted faster than a spooked bunny and left the receptionist in the dust, making his way to the
hotelâs restaurant on the fourth floor.
Ian was sitting like the perfect gentleman in the middle of the fancy restaurant, dressed in a small,
tailored suit and a napkin tucked into his collar. He ignored the food in front of him; his expression one of
impatience as he asked his fatherâs assistant, âMr. Scott, when can we go home?â
Ian and Matteo were completely different children.
Even though their physical features looked alike, their temperaments, personalities, and even their
speech patterns were opposites. If Matteo was a refreshing ball of sunshine, then Ian was a mini Arctic
Ocean just like his father, or maybe worse.
Ian was not talkative, and he didnât like being around other people because of his antisocial personality.
He had been raised by Sebastian to act prim and proper at all times. There wasnât a single trace of
naivety or immaturity that should be found in a normal five-year-old.
âTsk, so thatâs Mr. Ian? I really do look like him. But is he always as uptight like an old man?â Matteo
mumbled to himself, feeling sorry for the other boy.
âWe canât go home yet, Ian. We came here to look for a cure for your fatherâs illness. Donât you want your
father to be cured?â Luke told Ian.
The young boy was silent for a few moments. It was obvious that he still cared for his father greatly.
âThen the woman whom he brought along today is supposed to cure him?â
âSort of?â Luke laughed awkwardly, trying to give him the vaguest answer possible.
Ian knitted his eyebrows together and finally picked up his fork and knife, digging into his food. âIf thatâs
the case, then tell him not to be so mean to her!â
Luke nearly choked on his food.
A few feet away, Matteo stiffened up in shock.
What?
Who dares to be mean to Mommy? Unforgivable!
Whipping around, Matteo marched all the way to the penthouse suite, tiny fists clenched by his sides.
A few minutes later, the guards standing outside of the suite saw a tiny figure walked out of the elevator
and was heading towards them with a stern look on his face. For a moment, they broke out in a cold
sweat.
âWelcome back, Mr. Ian.â
âMmm.â Matteo was not an acting prodigy, but he did his best to mimic Ianâs uptight attitude. âWhereâs
Daddy?â
âMr. Hayes just left. But he said to tell you that if you came back early, you should go inside and rest, and
that heâd return very soon.â
The guards didnât harbor a single ounce of suspicion towards Matteo as they hurriedly told him where his
motherâs bully had gone before opening the door for the boy to enter the suite.
Matteo stepped inside the penthouse suite, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings.
The living room was nearly as large as a town square, decorated with expensive-looking furniture fit for
royalty.
Whereâs Mommy?