Novel Name : Three Little Guardian Angels

Chapter 2026

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The man was reading the news. He lifted his cup when his servant leaned to his ear. “Master Cameron
is back, sir.”

The man hummed and finished his tea slowly. He raised his head just in time to catch a dashing young
man striding into his courtyard with his hands on his back, who raised his brow and hollered, “Miss me
yet, pops?”

The man placed a cover on his teacup and frowned. “Forgot your manners now that you‘ve been
seeing the world for a while?”

His attention drifted to Nollace standing behind him, and he froze. He turned back to the papers and
rose to his feet suddenly, grumbling, “God! I gave you one job, brat. I told you to make money, but the
only currency you‘re good at is trouble, isn‘t it? You keep bringing freaks home!”

Nollace narrowed his eyes but did not say anything.

The youth circled behind the man and started massaging the latter‘s shoulders. “Whoa! Calm down,
Dad. I saved him while I was at the sea, okay? You told me nobody sane and good would think saving
a life is bad, remember? Rather make friends than enemies, you said. I follow your advice like the good
son I am.” Sunny Southern sneered. “You mean, you ‘selectively follow my advice like the ‘selectively
good‘ son you are.” He turned back to Nollace and observed the young man. Had he not read the
news, he would have never guessed the kid to be a bigshot. “So, a member of the Knowles family of
Yaramoor?”

Nollace gave a little nod. “Your reputation reaches me, Mr. Sunny Southern, but I didn‘t expect mine to
reach you.”



The older man stood and waved. “Since my son rescued you. Since you clearly look fine and
unharmed, I shall return you to your home tomorrow.” Nollace raised his eyelids. “I‘m sorry, but not so
soon, sir.” Sunny regarded him pensively. A moment later, he looked away. “Come with me to my
study.” Nollace nodded and followed him inside. Cameron watched the two disappearing by the door
with his arms crossed. The family butler approached him apprehensively. “Master Cameron, if I may...
This stranger is a little worrying. We don‘t know who he is or why he‘s here on the island. Does he have
any motive?” Cameron smiled. “I bet he has a motive, all right.” His eyes drifted to the newspaper on
the coffee table. He picked it up, his eyes narrowing a little in scrutiny.

Nollace and Sunny stepped into the study. One could catch a small fragment of the forest beyond the
squared–shaped windows. The room was incredibly well–lit and left nothing in the shadows–its owner‘s
assortment of vintage pens and brushes, his collection of books, and

the formidable arrays of antiques and calligraphies. Sunny took his seat behind the coffee table and
picked up his teapot. “Tell me why you‘re adamant about staying on our island.” Nollace was candid.
“I‘m looking for someone.”

Sunny pressed the lid against the pot and sloshed its content. “Oh, yes?” “His name is Donald. He
escaped prison in Yaramoor, came to the East Islands, and joined Fabio Puzo.” Sunny paused in mid–
action and looked up. “That Matthews kid?” Nollace was not surprised that he knew him. “So, you know
him.” Sunny snorted under his breath and drank his tea. “Please. I know more than just that name. I
know all about him buddying up with the Skull Club, too. The syndicate rules Southeast Eurasia and
practically monopolizes its entire entertainment industry. “Matthews Sr. was where they got their
money, but the Skull Club got smarter. They realized Matthews Sr. was trying to take advantage of
them and got particularly incensed about him

always taking the biggest cut of the profit. “They got hostile, so Matthews Sr. got terrified of possible
retribution and came to me for help. The Skull Club played nice, for my sake. Matthews Sr. would have



never been able to leave Southeast Eurasia otherwise.

“As for his son, Donald? He came here two years ago, seeking my protection, but I didn‘t let him stay.”
Nollace fell into a pensive silence. He had already been aware that the Skull Club was helping Donald.

Bear was a Southeast Eurasian, so it seemed palpable that Donald‘s father had left his son some
connections and names to fall back on in Southeast Eurasia.


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