DC: I Reported Bruce Wayne… Then He Adopted Me Chapter 38 38 Timothy, as he was now, had a successful caree

In the photo, the Hawaiian sun had tanned Timothy to a perfectly even roasted color.

The once serious and cynical boy had grown into a handso and mature man.

He had his arm around a friend's shoulder, laughing loudly at the cara, his mirth radiating from his eyes all the way to his lips, unreservedly showing all eight teeth to the lens.

The sun pierced through the clouds, casting golden rays on his face, as if dispelling the shadows of the past.

For a mont, Theodore felt a sense of disorientation.

Twenty years had changed too many things; the Timothy in the profile picture was so different that he barely recognized him.

In Theodore's mory, Timothy was a cold and taciturn boy.

He rarely smiled, let alone laughed so unrestrainedly.

The Timothy that Theodore knew, even when he did smile, it was mostly a sarcastic sneer, his words sharp and biting, everything he did tinged with a world-weary bitterness.

When Theodore first t Timothy, they spoke less than ten sentences in the first week.

Their first conversation was on the night Theodore was sent to na Manor.

After the lights were out, Theodore turned his head and saw the shimring light in the eyes of the boy on the single bed opposite him, like ripples on water, knowing that he wasn't asleep either.

So Theodore asked him, "Do you want to run away?"

Timothy glanced at the wound on his forehead and replied coldly, "If you want to die, don't drag into it."

Theodore, in a huff, rolled over, turning his back to Timothy.

It was at that exact mont that he heard Timothy behind him, letting out a clear sneer.

After that, the two of them didn't speak for a full three days.

It wasn't until the evening of the fourth day that the maid, as usual, brought them sandwiches and milk for dinner.

The honey today looked particularly viscous; Theodore picked it up to examine it, and just as he was about to add it to his milk, his wrist was heavily slapped by Timothy.

"What are you doing!" Theodore pushed his milk cup away and abruptly stood up.

"There's a banquet at the Manor tonight. If you go down to liven things up, you'll be their little snack."

Timothy said sothing that Theodore didn't understand at the ti, but only later, when he ca to his senses, did he feel a faint sense of dread.

He then retorted to Theodore, "Do you want to die?"

Their third conversation occurred on the evening of the seventh day.

When the door opened and Theodore was roughly thrown onto the bedroom floor by the bodyguard, the thick sll of blood that assailed him made Timothy stand up in startled alarm.

He quickly walked over and knelt in front of Theodore, trying to help Theodore onto the bed, but accidentally pulled Theodore's fractured ribs, causing him pain.

Amidst Theodore's painful groan, Timothy stopped his movents in a daze, and finally could only get so clean water to wipe the blood from Theodore's eyes.

Timothy's hands trembled, the water-soaked towel shaking on Theodore's face.

"It's only the seventh day," he murmured, "God, you've only been here less than seven days... What on earth did you do to make Stanley so angry?"

Theodore opened his swollen eyelids, spat out the blood seeping from his mouth, and revealed a sharp, triumphant smile.

He was like a young wolf cub at the end of its rope, finally sniffing out a secret, biting into the flesh of its enemy. Even if it died, it wouldn't release its teeth.

"I hit him."

Theodore grinned, his sharp canine teeth still stained with the other's blood, like a badge of victory.

At this ti, he and Timothy were not yet familiar.

But for everything that had just happened, Theodore couldn't find anyone else to share it with.

Most importantly, Theodore knew that if there were only two people in this Manor who would be happy about Stanley getting beaten, it would definitely be him and Timothy.

"He wanted to hang , and I took the opportunity while he went to get the rope to bite his wrist."

"He then tried to smash my head against the wall, but I was specifically guarding against that, desperately trying to strangle his neck... cough cough..."

Theodore coughed and laughed, his face covered in miserable bloodstains, yet it couldn't hide his joyful expression.

"And then... I discovered Stanley's secret."

It turned out that Stanley, this pervert, not only whipped the weak, but also reveled in others' violence.

In short, Stanley was not just a sadist.

He was also a masochist! He enjoyed being subjected to violence!

Theodore: "!!!"

Unbelievable, greatly shocked.

The sa person could evolve into two completely opposite perverted directions; it was truly hard to know how to comnt.

The sharp pain in his ribs finally eased a little, turning into waves of stinging pain that swept over him like a tide.

Theodore took a deep breath, his nerves taut, and carefully moved himself onto the bed to lie down.

Pulling the pillowcase over his bruised and swollen face, Theodore, hidden by the fabric, revealed a satisfied smile.

"Also, Stanley agreed to teach martial arts."

Stanley might just want to set up a situation where he could openly beat Theodore.

But that didn't matter.

Stanley would most likely retaliate fiercely for the unexpected incident that happened today.

Theodore's injuries would only get worse in the coming period.

But that didn't matter either.

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