Unspoken Love

Chapter 28 A Stack of Letters from Her to Cindy

In the past two years, Brodie had rarely visited the presidential suite that belonged to him and Luna.

Because every time he went there, he would be devoured by a suffocating feeling as if submerged in

the ocean.

One night, he saw Cindy wiping tears alone in his study. Being seven-year-old, Cindy was much more

sensible than before. Her eyes were drowsy and red, like rabbit eyes. "Brodie, you lost Luna, didn't

you? I've won the first prize in the piano competition, but among the many feedbacks in your desk

drawer, why haven't you got any information on Luna's whereabouts?"

Brodie didn't know where to start. He looked at his little girl in confusion. In the past two years, he had

both his affairs and Cindy's affairs widely publicized in all kinds of traditional and new media. He always

thought that Luna may see them.

Moreover, even if Luna was unwilling to forgive him, she would be willing to take a look at Cindy. Luna

would show up even if it only meant seeing Cindy once.

Brodie had always had such a dream.

However, he was unable to get any progress. All the information from informers and private detectives

was always misleading, so he had never found any information about Luna.

Brodie didn't want to tell Cindy about the disappointing news, but Cindy seemed to have noticed it a

long time ago.

What a precocious girl, just like Luna.

Brodie squatted down and waved at Cindy, "Come here."

Cindy refused, "Brodie, when will you help me find my Luna? If my Luna is not doing well outside, who

will take care of her? If my Luna is sick outside, who will take her to the doctor? Luna always reminded

me to take medicine on time, but she could never remember to take medicine herself. How sad Luna

must be when she found that her mother, who she took care of for so many years, was not her natural

mother!"

Brodie looked at Cindy, whose eyes were red in front of him. He recalled that many years ago, Luna

had the same expression when she was wronged. It was as soft as the spring water in March, filling

people with tender ripples.

Brodie comforted Cindy and coaxed her into sleep, but he himself couldn't sleep. He wearily put Cindy

in her small bedroom, laid her in the bed and tucked her in. Then he walked into the study and smoked

two cigarettes alone. Perhaps he really missed her too much. He went downstairs to the garage in the

early morning and drove to the hotel.

The presidential suite.

When the young lady at the front desk saw Brodie, she suddenly remembered something and stopped

Brodie, who was hurrying towards the elevator. "Mr. Melton."

Brodie stopped with narrowed eyes and a slight frown, then he quietly looked back.

The receptionist had never contacted with such a big shot, so when looked at by him, she was

inexplicably shocked. It took her a while before she came to her senses and remembered her mission.

She took out many letters from a drawer and handed them over.

"Many international letters arrived today. They are addressed to your presidential suite. We've

investigated our employees, and no one has ever leaked your room number or information. So these Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

letters should have been sent by someone who does know your room number. I was going to contact

you tomorrow—"

The receptionist couldn't finish her sentence.

The letters in her hand were snatched away by the famous businessman who had always acted

gracefully and talked calmly.