Sorry, I'm the Final Boss Now novel Chapter 73

Her fingers, holding the note, felt stiff. A heavy expression settled on her beautiful face.

What was wrong with that little rascal? No wonder he’d sent Yellow away first. His reaction to seeing her had clearly shown he still cared, so why wouldn’t he come home?

Was it because of Theobald? Had some irreparable conflict developed between them after she died? Theobald had never mentioned anything.

As the thought formed, Marguerite sent Theobald the message: [He's gone! Aaron actually ran off!]

Some things were better discussed in person.

Half an hour later, Theobald appeared at the entrance of Momo Tea and strode inside. He had also graduated from Pinecrest and knew the area reasonably well.

“What can I get for you?” the young employee asked cheerfully.

The man in the tailored black suit exuded a cold aura. “One jasmine milk tea. Iced, light sugar.”

The girl glanced at Theobald, her eyes landing on the black prayer beads on his wrist. A flicker of excitement crossed her face. Who would have thought she’d see the legendary Wraith of Northpine in person? It was her lucky day. First, the billionaire tycoon Mr. Spencer, who had also ordered an iced jasmine milk tea with light sugar, and now this.

It wasn’t busy, so Theobald got his drink quickly. The cool cup in his palm helped soothe his frayed nerves. He found Marguerite in the corner and sat down. “What happened?”

Marguerite had already finished her own drink. She casually took the one from his hand and took a sip. “Go buy yourself another one.”

“But it wasn’t your fault. Aaron isn’t the type to place blame unfairly. And you’ve been looking for him all this time. He’s right here in Northpine; it would have been easy for him to come home.”

It had to be something else.

Theobald’s left thumb subconsciously ran over the prayer beads on his right wrist. He let out a pained sigh. “So he was in Northpine all along, he just didn't want to come home. Is he doing okay? How is he?”

The memory of the adorable, chubby little boy filled him with sorrow. Aaron was the youngest, but he had always been so sensible. After their housekeeper left, Theobald had taken on the cooking duties, and little Aaron, chubby as he was, would always be there trying to help. He was only three or four at the time.

Once, he had mistaken an onion for an apple and taken a huge bite. Tears streamed down his face like a waterfall, but he’d still said, “Theobald, this apple doesn’t taste good. Let’s not buy it anymore. Marguerite won’t like it.”