Since Vivi had already finished eating her fill, there was really no reason for them to linger any longer inside the fast food restaurant. Neville was just about to stand up and leave the remaining food on the table when the little bun suddenly reached out and tugged at his sleeve, stopping him.
"Wait," Vivi said, her tone surprisingly firm for someone so small.
Neville raised an eyebrow.
She didn't want to waste the leftovers.
To Vivi, food wasn't just something to fill her belly—it was important. Sacred, even. Her mommy had always told her that food was one of the most precious things in the world. Somewhere out there, someone else might be hungry and thinking the same thing. And more importantly, her mommy warned her that if she ever wasted food, she'd come back in her next life as a crawling weed—stuck on the ground, stepped on by dogs and forgotten by the wind.
Neville stared at her as she refused to budge from her chair, arms crossed stubbornly over her chest.
She really was Natellie's daughter.
That stubborn streak, that small flash of compassion hidden under all the noise—there was no mistaking it. Even if Natellie was frustrating and completely unbearable most days, he had to admit, she always had that soft spot for people in need. Always trying to do the right thing in her own chaotic way.
And now, this little dumpling was clearly cut from the same cloth. Of course Natellie would teach her things like this.
Neville sighed under his breath and waved over a staff member.
Because in the end, he knew—there was no arguing with that kind of conviction.
Not long after they left, another car screeched to a halt just outside the fast food restaurant. The door flew open, and a man in a black mask jumped out, moving fast and with purpose. He stormed through the entrance, eyes darting around like a predator tracking its prey.
Spotting a staff member wiping down a nearby table, he marched over and thrust a photograph into the young man's face.
"Have you seen this man?" he asked, voice sharp and low, laced with urgency.
The staff blinked, startled but recognizing the face immediately. "Yeah… he was just here," he replied, pointing toward the door. "Left maybe two, three minutes ago. You just missed him."
The masked man clicked his tongue in frustration. "Tch… that bastard did this on purpose."
He leaned in, jaw tight, eyes narrowing behind the mask. "Was he alone?"
The staff hesitated for a beat, then shook his head. "No, he had a little girl with him. Maybe five or six. Small, loud, really cute. Had spaghetti sauce all over her face—looked like she wrestled with her food and lost." He motioned toward the now-empty table. "They were sitting right there. Before they left, he asked me to pack the leftovers and give them to the kids outside. Gave me a pretty big tip too."
The man in the mask went silent, the tension in his shoulders growing heavier. His lips pressed into a hard line under the fabric, the muscles in his jaw twitching slightly.
Then, without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed out of the restaurant, fists clenched at his sides. As he stepped back into the sunlight, his voice was a low mutter, sharp with irritation.
"Always one step ahead…"
Neville brought Vivi to a department store first, deciding it was time—past time—to get her into new clothes. Her turtle onesie was now dotted with sauce stains, and every time he glanced at it, his eye twitched with irritation. It wasn't just the mess—it was the idea of walking around with a small creature dressed like a turtle, looking like she had survived a food fight.
They stepped into a boutique that specialized in high-quality baby and toddler clothes. The moment they entered, a shop assistant caught sight of Neville's face and froze for half a second, clearly recognizing him. Her stunned expression quickly shifted into a professional smile as she stepped forward to greet them.
"Welcome, sir," she said politely, bowing slightly.
Neville responded with a lazy smile, barely acknowledging the reaction as he turned his attention to the clothes displayed on the racks. Without saying much, he scanned through the options, his eyes narrowing in mild concentration. After a few minutes, he plucked a bright pink jumper suit from the rack and handed it to Vivi. Without stopping, he also picked out a matching pink cap, a pair of rubber shoes, a soft cotton t-shirt, and a pair of tiny socks—all in various shades of pink.
He stacked them one by one into Vivi's chubby little arms.
The girl blinked, looking down at the pile of pink, then slowly tilted her head up to him, her expression puzzled and faintly suspicious.
"Daddy, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice curious and her head tilted like a confused puppy.
"Buying you some nice things. Now go and change your clothes," Neville replied matter-of-factly.
Vivi stared at him, then pouted. "No," she said with a dramatic drag in her voice, "I like being a turtle."
And just like that, the little bun clung tighter to her sauce-stained onesie, as if it were a part of her soul.
Vivi stubbornly clung to her turtle onesie, clearly unwilling to change out of it. As ridiculous as it looked with all the sauce stains, it held meaning for her. The outfit had been a gift from her daddy number one—Stanley—just this morning. Now that she was no longer hungry and her belly was full of fried chicken and spaghetti, her earlier annoyance toward him had melted away. Vivi was a child after all, and grudges never lasted long in her world. Forgiveness came as easily as a new bite of food.
"Ah, right," Neville muttered, recalling something from the letter Natellie had left with Vivi. "It said in there that you like turtles."
"Yes! Vivi likes turtles a lot!" the little girl said enthusiastically, nodding her head so hard her cap nearly slipped off.
"Oh," Neville replied flatly, giving her a slow look.
Then, as his gaze lingered on her, a smirk curved at the corner of his lips.
"Well, whatever. Whether you like turtles or not, I don't care." His voice was nonchalant as ever. "Now go and change your clothes."
"But Daddy…" Vivi tried, her voice dipping into a soft whine.