Ch. 217: Mr. Edwards’ Unraveled Life chapter 217

Chapter 217

Norah wasn’t naive. She’d already heard enough about Maxine’s controlling personality from others. Maxine wanted to be the best at everything and wouldn’t tolerate any newcomer outshining her.

Now that Norah had called her out, Maxine’s face flushed with frustration. Her pride was wounded, and her voice rose, seething with anger. “Stop running your mouth, Norah! You’re coming with me whether you like it or not!”

Norah met her glare with calm defiance. “I have other responsibilities. Excuse me.”

Without another word, she brushed past Maxine, refusing to be intimidated or manipulated.

Maxine, furious at being ignored, stomped her foot like a frustrated child. “Norah!” she yelled after her, but Norah didn’t even glance back.

The entire office had fallen silent, the tension palpable. Everyone was stunned—no one had ever dismissed Maxine so effortlessly.

Outside, Norah flagged down a taxi and gave the driver the address of the orphanage she planned to visit. The location was remote, far from the city, down rough, unpaved roads.

When she arrived, she stepped out of the cab and was greeted by the sight of a weathered, rusty gate and an old, rundown building. The orphanage looked nothing like the modern, vibrant city of Belourvinelle it belonged to.

A woman in her forties, her hair streaked with gray, approached her. Despite her simple, patched clothes, the warmth in her smile shone through.

“Are you Ms. White?” the woman asked eagerly.

“Yes,” Norah replied, smiling back. “I’m here to do an interview.”

The woman’s face lit up. “Wonderful! Please, come in.”

She opened the creaky iron gate, revealing an even more dilapidated interior. The walls were covered with faded chalk drawings, chipped paint, and missing tiles. It was clear the orphanage had seen better days.

Inside, rows of children sat quietly on worn benches, their wide eyes filled with both curiosity and timidity.

“These are my children,” the woman introduced. “Some were abandoned, others lost their parents, and a few were born with disabilities.” Her voice softened with affection. “They’re all precious to me.”

At her encouragement, the children greeted Norah in unison, their voices high and sweet: “Hello, Ms. White!”

Norah’s heart melted at the sight of them. They were neatly groomed despite their worn, mismatched clothes. Their little faces, red from the cold, looked up at her with hope and longing.

“Actually, call me Auntie,” Norah corrected gently, feeling too old for “sister.”

“But you look so young and beautiful!” a little girl exclaimed, her compliment quickly echoed by the others.

Norah chuckled and pulled a bag of candies from her purse. “Well, I can’t argue with such sweet talkers. Here, a reward for all of you!”

The children’s faces lit up with joy as she handed out the treats. Their clapping and giggles filled the room, their excitement so pure it was contagious.

The dean smiled warmly. “Ms. White, you’re too generous.”

Norah shook her head. “It’s nothing, really. Just a small gift.”

As Norah learned more about the orphanage’s dire situation, her heart grew heavier. Fifty children lived here, crammed into three small floors. Their meals were sparse—many hadn’t tasted meat in over a month. Resources were stretched so thin that even basic necessities felt like luxuries.

While walking through the yard, she spotted a tiny girl, no more than four years old, sitting quietly under a tree. The child held her candy tightly, refusing to eat it. Curious, Norah knelt beside her.

“Why aren’t you eating your candy?” Norah asked gently.

The girl glanced down at the treat in her small hand. “I don’t want it to be gone,” she whispered. “They said it’s the best candy ever, so I’m saving it. I’ll just take a tiny lick so it lasts a long, long time.”

Norah’s throat tightened at the innocence and hardship in those words.

She stroked the girl’s hair. “One day, when you’re all grown up, you’ll have all the candy you want. You’ll be able to buy it for yourself, as much as you like.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Really? When I grow up, I can have lots of candy? Candy’s my favorite!”

Norah nodded. “Yes, but only if you study hard and work even harder.”

The little girl smiled shyly. “I will! And when I do, I’ll help people, just like you, Auntie!”

Norah’s heart swelled. “That’s a beautiful dream. Just remember to take care of yourself, too, okay?”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of trucks pulling up outside.

“Dean, come quickly!” someone shouted. “There are trucks—lots of them!”

The dean rushed out, Norah close behind. “What trucks?”

Several large vehicles had stopped in front of the orphanage. Workers began unloading crates of supplies: food, clothing, blankets—enough to last the orphanage months.

The dean was stunned. “Ms. White, your article must have reached someone already!”

Norah frowned, confused. “But I haven’t published anything yet.”

The dean looked equally puzzled. “Then where did this come from?”

Norah approached one of the workers. “Who sent all this?”

“I’m not sure, ma’am,” the man replied.

Feeling a sudden suspicion, Norah walked down the dirt road until she spotted a sleek black car parked discreetly behind some trees.

Her jaw tightened. She approached and knocked on the window.

The driver hesitated before rolling it down slightly. “Ms. White,” he greeted nervously.

Norah leaned closer, peering into the backseat. “Kevin,” she said firmly.

Kevin turned his head, his expression unreadable. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice cold.

Norah crossed her arms. “You sent the supplies, didn’t you?”

“It’s just charity,” he replied flatly. “No need to make a big deal out of it.”

She scoffed. “Charity, huh? And how did these people magically know my name? Admit it—it was you.”

Kevin looked away. “It doesn’t matter who sent them.”

“You followed me here, didn’t you?” she pressed.

He finally met her gaze, his eyes sharp and unyielding. “You think you’re the only one who knows this road?”

Norah sighed, exasperated yet oddly touched. “Why can’t you ever just say what you mean?”