Try Begging - Chapter 158.1
“How did I find out? Every time a child was born, gold bars were sold. It must have been unreasonable to cover the hospital bills with a worker’s wages.”
“….”
“I only found out today that it was an inheritance, thanks to you. That means she also received gold bars, right? The ones you sold were all minted by the Royal Heritage Bank and had sequential serial numbers. Your mother must have purchased gold bars around the same time, and the ones you sold and the ones she holds would have closely related serial numbers.”
Winston quickly pieced together the clues, drawing his own conclusions.
“Ah, so I can use the gold bars to track her down?”
He laughed, genuinely pleased this time.
“Good. A new lead. Thanks.”
A hand in a black glove suddenly reached out through the car window as if to pat Joe on the shoulder in encouragement. Before Joe could respond, the window rolled up, and the car began to move.
Staring blankly at the tail lights of the disappearing car over the hill, Joe clicked his tongue.
That d*mned devil.
Someday, when he met his sister, he must ask her.
‘…Grace, what have you done to make that devil so obsessed with you?’
Amid the incessant honking of cars and the noise of the weekend crowd, the radio blared an upbeat song. However, Grace, sitting on the hotel bed in a bathrobe, was far from cheerful.
‘I can’t do this anymore.’
That was the conclusion Grace reached after two months on the run.
“Hoo…”
Her sighs mixed with the sound of flipping through the newspaper. Why was it so hard to find a decent place?
As she skimmed through real estate rental ads with the tip of her finger, she sighed repeatedly. Just as she put away one newspaper without much result to pick up another, the extended intro on the radio ended, and the lyrics began.
[ Where has my darling gone? ]
At that moment, Grace burst out laughing, amused by the earnest lyrics mismatched with the cheery melody.
“Why are you wandering around this cold winter without the warmth of my embrace, huh? I’m worried about you.”
The next line of the song played.
[ Where is my darling tonight? ]
‘Well, your darling is right here in Wakefield City, Fraser Hotel, Room 1115.’
“By the way, how’s our child?”
Too well, that was the problem.
Grace scooped a small piece of cake from the nightstand and ate it, then took a sip of ginger ale. The unauthorized tenant in her belly had grown noticeably, complicating her digestion to the point that she had to live on ginger ale.
Only ten more weeks until the squatter’s eviction.
It was impractical to keep moving from place to place with her increasingly heavy body and giving birth in a hotel room wasn’t an option. No doubt, that man had probably issued a warrant for her in every hospital in the kingdom, expecting her to walk right into his trap in 10 weeks.
Did he think she was that foolish?
Grace tapped an ad in the lifestyle section of the newspaper and then flipped through an atlas lying beside her.
“Hmm…”
The location and price seemed just right.
[ Twenty-four-hour security and concierge services. ]
It was secure, at least. With staff always on hand, she wouldn’t need to go out. But there was a catch…
[ Active resident community. ]
In other words, they regularly hold community gatherings like parties. With such active interaction, rumors spread easily, and it surely would only be a matter of time before rumors would start about the new woman who had never had a husband visiting and how suspicious she was.
“Haa… Really, where should I go?”
A slum busy with day-to-day survival, where people have no leisure to be curious about others, or an immigrant district where people don’t read flyers, struggle with the language, and fear interactions with authority might best evade his pursuit.
In such places, she’d have to manage everything from basic necessities to personal safety on her own. It would have been feasible if she was alone, but not with her current condition.
So, keeping those as a last resort, Grace kept flipping through the newspapers for days, searching for a suitable place, while the man kept speaking to Grace.
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