The room was messed up by him, the furniture was almost all destroyed, and the floor was full of debris.
Claire frowned, trying to calm down.
What the f*ck was he doing?
Mr. Hopkins shouted. “Mr. Johnson, see who came!”
Hunter was holding a vase above his head, and when he heard this, he turned his head, only to see Claire at the door. His gloomy eyes instantly lit up.
“Claire!” He threw the vase aside, rushed towards Claire, and hugged her firmly, rubbing her hard with his head.
His voice was full of grievance. “Claire, I thought you don’t want me anymore…”
Claire dragged him to the bed with difficulty. “Sit down first.”
He shook his head. Instead of letting go of her, he held her more tightly.
Claire could only sit down herself.
The man hung on her like a koala.
Claire took a deep breath and asked. “Do you know what foster care is?”
Hunter nodded. “The owner is too busy, so she puts her dog in someone else’s house.”
Claire said deadpan, “Now this is a foster care. I’m very busy, so you need to live here for some time before I come to pick you up.”
“How long will it take?” Hunter gently bit her earlobe with the tip of his teeth.
“…half a month.” Claire shuddered as if experiencing an electric shock. “If you understand, let go of me!”
Hunter immediately let go.
Claire pointed to the bed. “Lie down.”
The man lay down on the bed and looked at her with glowing eyes. Suddenly, he twisted his body like a big wriggling worm.
“What do you want?”
“Itchy…” He blinked his wet eyes. “Claire… my back is itchy. Scratch it for me.”
Claire squinted at him. “Turn around.”
Hunter obediently turned his back to her.
Claire stretched out her hand and scratched his back.
He grunted. “Itchy… still itchy, reach into my clothes and scratch…”
“…”
Did he do this on purpose?
Claire was a little impatient, but still reached her hand into Hunter’s clothes, only to touch a piece of uneven skin.
Something was wrong.
She lifted Hunter’s clothes up, and saw scars all over the man’s back!
The scars were long and crisscrossing all over his back. They seemed to be old.
At the first glance, Claire saw dozens of densely packed scars, which seemed to be whip lashes and were shocking to the eye.
Claire suddenly squeezed the hem of his clothes, feeling suffocated in an instant.
He was the only son of the Johnsons. With such a noble status, he should have grown up pampered and meticulously cared for. Why did he suffer such a severe beating?
Downstairs.
Mr. Hopkins was holding a cup of hot tea, and when he saw Claire, he immediately stood up and asked. “Is Mr. Johnson okay?”
Claire walked opposite to him, pulled out a chair away and sat down slowly, with no expression on her face. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Yes, please.” Mr. Hopkins made tea for her.
Claire raised her cold eyes and went straight to the point. “I saw the scars on his back.”
Mr. Hopkins’s hand trembled and the water spilled over. He hurriedly took out a tissue and wiped it.
Claire tilted her head and smiled. “Why are you panicking?”
Mr. Hopkins’s eyes flickered, and he kept wiping the table without saying a word.
Claire slowly picked up the tea cup and played with it, her smile a bit cold. “So, are you abusing him?”
Apart from this possibility, she could not think of any other reasons.
Mr. Hopkins suddenly laughed. “Miss Claire, you can’t say anything as you like. Do we look like people who would abuse Mr. Johnson?”
No, they didn’t.
Claire put the teacup down with a bang. “Then, please explain how he got those scars.”
Mr. Hopkins finally raised his head, his face calm, making people unable to tell what he was thinking. “Miss Claire, I don’t have to tell you everything about Mr. Johnson.”
