Chapter 403 Maybe Your Own Mom Scared You

• Stephanie burned up at parents who wouldn’t take responsibility. And they still had the nerve to blame the kid? This little girl clearly wasn’t like a typical six- or seven-year-old. As parents, they should’ve held her hand tight. How could they let go? She folded her arms and said coolly, “Your kid needs special attention. You better keep your eyes on her. If she runs into danger…” Stephanie didn’t finish, because the man holding the child turned and stared straight at her. She had no idea how to describe that look, but it ticked her off. She’d always had a rebellious streak—being glared at only made her bristle. Her tone got even more proud: “Why are you glaring at me? Did I say something wrong? Your daughter just got shoved—did you even notice? What if she’d bolted into the street and a car hit her?” The young woman at the front desk rushed to chime in, “A boy tried to snatch the little girl’s toy and pushed her down. Ms. Stephanie stepped in just in time. Ms. Stephanie already made that family apologize, and they’ve left.” The man pulled his gaze back. Holding the child, he dipped his head slightly to Stephanie. “Thank you, Ms.… Stephanie, for helping out.” He studied her face and explained, “I picked up a call just now. The elevator must’ve opened right then, and the kid just walked in…” Stephanie didn’t have the patience for it. She waved, annoyed. “That’s your business. She’s your kid. Why are you telling me this?” She turned to go, already tapping her phone to call the driver and have the car pulled to the hotel entrance. She didn’t notice a pair of eyes lingering on her back, shadowed and hard to read. The woman’s gentle coo floated over to the little girl: “Mumu, were you scared just now? You mustn’t run off like that, okay?” Stephanie remembered the girl’s feral little glare earlier and thought, The kid didn’t get scared by that family. If anyone scared her, it’s probably you, mom. Just a blip. Stephanie got in the car and headed home. Upstairs, Sienna and the others kept the party going. It was past eleven by the time they wrapped up. Callan seemed a little tipsy, swaying as he walked. Weird—didn’t look like he drank that much. Sienna grabbed his arm, worry in her eyes. “Callan, are you drunk?” Callan shook his head. “Not drunk. Just a little dizzy.” He looked exactly like one of those guys insisting they weren’t drunk when they obviously were. Behind them, Zavier said, “Miss, how about I go book a room? Let Mr. Callan sleep it off before heading back. It’s chilly out, and in this state he’ll catch a cold if the wind hits him.” Sienna didn’t think twice. “No need to book. I’ve got a room contract at Goldlux Hotel.” Walking him to Room 3303 felt awkward, sure—but only for a second. Zavier helped settle Callan onto the bed, then slipped out. Sienna had never really taken care of anyone. She figured Callan probably wanted water. So she went to pour him a glass. When she came back in, Callan was propped up against the headboard, staring right at her. “You’re not drunk?” Callan chuckled. “When did I say I was? I didn’t drink much—just a touch dizzy.” Sienna: “…” She suddenly felt like a fat rabbit that had just fallen into a trap. “Drunk or not, drink some water.” “Thanks.” Callan took it and downed most of it in one go. He hadn’t said half as much tonight as his girl did, but he was still parched. He set the glass on the nightstand, then stretched out his long arm and pulled Sienna into his arms.