Chapter 92
“Steffi has been with us for quite some time now.”
WEW
The sun rose a little earlier than it had in winter on this early spring morning, and the gray sky gradually turned white, George leaned on his cane by the intricately carved wooden railing of the veranda. He gazed at the expanse of precious flowers and plants ahead, with their buds beginning to bloom, presenting a scene of vibrant vitality.
How time flies, he mused.
Seeing the heavy morning dew, Brad approached with a thin coat, smiling, “After Mrs. Wellington gave birth to twins at the end of the year, things are gonna get lively around here.”
“Brad, I have a clear mind and a strong body. I don’t need this cont.” George raised his right hand slightly, asking him to take it back. He turned his head and looked at the east side, his expression thoughtful. He murmured, “There is one thing…” He trailed off. There was one
thing he couldn’t understand.
“Do you not understand why Mr. Wellington went to such lengths to marry Stephanie?” Brad recalled George’s earlier question in the dining hall. He wondered if they had known each other before.
“From what I can tell, Stephanie doesn’t remember Mr.Wellington…” Brad paused, and he became more solemn. He thought, ‘But Mr. Wellington clearly remembers her.”
“Do you remember Oreo from before?” George asked in a deep voice as he slowly approached the gazebo at the end of the veranda.
Brad followed behind. Momentarily stunned at the mention of “Oreo,” he nodded and said, “I remember.”
Of course, he remembered.
Oreo was the name of a puppy in the Wellington family.
“Grandpa, it wants my biscuit.
Dominick brought a dirty Labrador back from outside when he was three years old. It looked like an abandoned stray puppy.
How could the only heir of the Wellington family be allowed to touch something like that? It was too dirty, too dangerous. The household servants immediately moved to take the dog away.
“It’s mine.” The three–year–old boy’s voice was childishly innocent but clear and resolute.
The group of servants looked on with resignation as Dominick clutched the dirty puppy tightly, his face set in determination.
“Do you want to keep it?” George didn’t seem entirely opposed to the stray dog, quietly asking the child.
With a serious expression, Dominick pondered for a moment, then looked up, his voice still childish but firm. “It’s been following me everywhere, sneaking behind me the whole time….
Halfway through, perhaps finding the half–month–old pup a bit heavy, he gently placed it on the clean, well–lit floor.
Squatting down, he tore open a pack of Oreos in his hand and began feeding them to the dog.
The pup seemed genuinely hungry, eagerly nibbling away.
Dominick pinched the dog’s ear with his tiny hand, “Grandpa, I think it likes me,” he said, sounding pleased and a bit proud to share with George.
“You think it likes you, so you bring it home. But did you ask it if it likes living here?” George was quite gentle with his three–year–old
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Chapter 92
grandson. He smiled, “You bring it home. You’ve got to take responsibility for taking good care of it. Do you think you can do that?”
“I have lots of snacks.” He lifted his little head, full of confidence.
George shook his head, lowering his voice intentionally. “Dogs can’t eat chocolate. Too much of this biscuit will make it sick.”
Dominick’s face froze momentarily, then he spoke again, a little nervous. “Then, then I have other things I can give it. It definitely like me.”
In the end, the stray pup stayed. The servants took it to bathe and vaccinate it. With its cream–colored fur and two droopy ears, it looked
pretty adorable.
Labradors were known for their docile and steady temperament. They were neither sluggish nor overly active and were friendly and loyal to humans. George thought it wasn’t bad to cultivate a sense of responsibility in his grandson from an early age.
Actually, agreeing to keep the dog had a more important reason. Dominick was too lonel
Ordinary people weren’t allowed near him. Although a group of servants always followed him, George suddenly realized this over–protection might have harmed the child.
“It’s been following me everywhere. I think it likes me.”
A child’s simple and direct words made them understand that perhaps Dominick had always longed to interact with others.
The Wellington family was different from ordinary families. Even walking carried a sense of solemnity. Dominick was raised in such an atmosphere from a young age, and he took taking care of his dog very seriously.
During that time, everyone felt that keeping the stray dog was good. Dominick seemed livelier than before.
But good times didn’t last long.
A month later, Dominick’s mother returned from abroad. When she saw Oreo running around the house, her face suddenly changed. She was afraid of dogs.
“Dad, where did this mongrel stray come from? Dominick is still so young. What if it goes crazy and bites him one day!”
Even though adults wouldn’t discuss matters in front of the children, Dominick was very sensitive. He could feel that his mother didn’t like
his little companion.
One morning, Dominick’s mother’s high heels became Oreo’s plaything. When discovered, she scolded the dog harshly and immediately ordered the servants to seize the dog and throw it out.
The servants searched for a long time but couldn’t find Oreo that day. Dominick had hidden it away.
The Wellington family’s three–year–old had to start receiving education. Every day, teachers came to give him lessons, and he kept the dog locked in a cluttered room in the South Pavilion.
Perhaps he was worried that his mother would drive the dog away and hoped his grandfather would intercede after his return.
However, when George returned, Dominick was informed that his puppy had died.
It was trapped in the cluttered room and was probably unfamiliar with the place and hungry. It tried to run out many times, but the main door was closed tightly. However, this secluded room used to be connected to the rockery, leaving a large gap at the bottom of the wall. Workers simply blocked it with barbed wire. Over time, the wire became rusty.
The puppy probably tried crawling through this gap but got caught in the sharp wire. Its body was pricked by it and bleeds. It was stuck in the
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Chapter 92
middle, unable to get out or go back in. It bled profusely. It struggled and whimpered for a long time, but it was already lifeless when the servants found it.
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“Grandpa, Oreo says it knows it did wrong. It promises it won’t do it again.”
After finishing his class at four o’clock in the afternoon, Dominick immediately ran to find George and told him about the dog biting his mother’s high heels in the morning.
George’s face was solemn, and he didn’t say anything. He just nodded towards the child.
Dominick was delighted and ran to South Pavilion to open the door. Inside, the cream–colored furry Labrador was curled up in a corner. “Are you sick?”
He felt his little companion was a bit timid today. He gently patted its furry head and then carried it back to the main house dining room. He brought his own dinner and placed it in front of the dog
“Dig in,” he said, squatting next to it, his clear eyes watching it,
But the puppy seemed a bit shy, wagging its tail and retreating to the corner without paying attention
n to him.
George looked at the side with a hesitant expression. But Dominick was very patient. He ran to the dog again. “Oreo, are you mad at me? Don’t be mad. I’ll be nice to you from now on… His innocent words made George feel a little unbearable.
But after three days, Dominick stopped playing with his little companion.
“Dominick, the teacher says you haven’t been paying attention in class these days. What happened?”
At around five o’clock in the afternoon, George found Dominick in the backyard of the South Pavilion. Dominick crouched inside the rockery, his head down, his expression gloomy.
“Grandpa, I’m not happy,” Dominick whispered.
George’s expression froze momentarily, then he crouched down, gently coaxing. “Tell me what’s wrong”
Dominick raised his head, looking at George with clear eyes, and nervously said, “Grandpa, where did you hide my Oreo? I can’t find it. I’ve been looking for it for a long time and still can’t find it.”
For a moment, George didn’t know what to say. The words were stuck in his throat.
Dominick crawled out from the rockery, nervously shaking George’s arm and pleading childishly, “Grandpa, does Mom not like it? Did Mom drive it away? Can you tell Mom to give Oreo back to me? I’ll teach it, it’ll be good. Grandpa, can you tell Mom to give Oreo back to me, please?”
Dominick rarely acted coquettishly. Brad stood aside and watched, his eyes reddening.
At this time, a puppy ran over happily. “Mr. Wellington, look, Oreo has come to play with you,” Brad forced a smile, gently coaxing him.
Dominick didn’t even glance at the puppy beside him. He gripped George’s arm anxiously, his voice tinged with frustration as he retorted,
“It’s not.”
Brad froze in astonishment.
“It’s dead. I had it buried.” George remained silent for a long while before speaking slowly.
Understanding the word “dead” at the age of three was too heavy a burden, but the children of the Wellington family were undoubtedly
