Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back!

Leanne had never seen the boy, unsure if he was some guest’s mischievous child.

She thought it was an innocent mistake when the first squirt of water hit her, so she let it slide. But as she turned away, another jet soaked her through.

Whirling back, she saw the little rascal aiming a squirt gun at her, a devilish grin plastered. on his face.

Leanne frowned, “Do you know me?”

“Nope.”

“Then why are you blasting me with the water gun?”

“Because I feel like it!” he retorted, firing another shot at her. “Who said you could sit here?”

Leanne’s back was already half drenched, the chill of early fall making the damp cashmere cling coldly to her skin.

But she didn’t shed her cloak. She knew the kid would keep at it.

Rising to leave, the boy was relentless, aiming his squirt gun and chasing after her. “You think you can run?”

Most of the time, Leanne was a pushover. Having lost her parents at a young age, endured abandonment and bullying, and later been taken in by the Richardson family life under someone else’s roof was far from easy.

She grew up cautious and compliant, never one to make a fuss, cry out, or seek supp well aware that no one would stand up for her.

Trouble was something she usually avoided.

But even the softest fruit will burst if squeezed too many times.

Leanne stopped in her tracks and turned. “Maybe you should run.”

The brat didn’t catch her insinuation, busily pumping his water gun. “Why should I run?”

Leanne, her shawl damp, spoke in an even tone, “Because the pool water’s cold and a little. run might warm you up, so you don’t cramp up if you fall in.”

“I won’t fall in!” He continued his assault, making ‘doo-doo-doo’ firing sounds with his mouth.

Leanne glanced around, spotting someone in the corridor below.

Curtis was casually chatting, hands in pockets, his gaze drifting toward the pool area. Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

GFL

11:15

Leanne’s expression tightened, her raised hand retreating silently.

The man with Curtis was fussing with a lighter eager to light his cigarette. “I’ve had it assessed. This project could yield a return of at least 200%. It’s a foolproof investment.”

He was selling his company’s project with great flourish, while Curtis, lazily nursing his smoke, seemed barely interested.

“Loan operations at Vector Vista Bank aren’t my business, Billy. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

“Aw, come on, Mr. Curtis, you and Mr. Phillip are tight. It’s all the same, right? And with your stake in Vector Vista, approving a loan is just a word away.”

Curtis didn’t bite, his brows knitting as his attention fell on the poolside scene.

Following his gaze, Billy chuckled, “Ah, kids. Always horsing around with the pretty ladies.” Curtis’ eyes narrowed with a frosty glint. “Your son?”

“Yeah, He takes after his mother in looks but has my brains. The teachers say he’s sharp,” Billy boasted.

Curtis’ voice was cold. “You brought up a kid with no manners. Wanna me to do your job

and teach him?”

Caught off guard by the chill in his words, Billy was still processing when Curtis snuffed out his cigarette and strode toward the pool.

Sensing Leanne wouldn’t retaliate, the brat grew bolder, aiming the squirt gun at her face, “Time for a makeup removal!”

Before the water could escape, a strong hand clamped down on his wrist.

“My wife’s makeup is too pretty to ruin. Why would you want to wash it off?”

Curtis stood before Leanne, effortlessly subduing the boy with one hand, his eyes

of warmth.

“Messing with my wife when I’m not there?”

devo