Chapter 6

Making money was a real headache for Christian. Between his last life and this one, he'd been nothing but a bookworm with his nose buried in textbooks. Finance, gambling, and all that stuff were completely foreign to him.

If anyone were to ask him which industry had made the most money in his previous life, it was real estate, hands down. It was so hot back then that even high schoolers would chat about it whenever they had nothing better to do.

The problem was that investing in real estate required substantial upfront capital. And with Christian's current situation, even if he somehow scraped some money together, he'd only be flipping houses on a tiny scale.

For the real players who controlled the market, small-time house flippers like him were just tools to help them drive up prices—disposable tools they could toss aside whenever they wanted.

So, real estate was a no-go. Christian mentally crossed it off his list.

As for finance, he'd occasionally overheard Hilda and George mention it at home in his previous life, but it had never really made sense to him. He'd only half understood at best. He didn't dare jump into something he didn't fully grasp.

The gambling industry was even worse. Anyone who wasn't the house was just there to get skinned. No, wait—there really had been one chance to make some quick cash, and that was via sports betting. He tried to remember which year the World Cup had been. There'd been one year with that big match-fixing scandal.

"Was it 2018? Damn." Christian cursed under his breath.

He racked his brains but still couldn't come up with a good way to make fast money. He slumped, feeling defeated. If he had to write a book about himself, he already had a title—"Rebirth: I'm Still a Loser".

Thinking it over, he realized that aside from having good grades, he really didn't have any other strengths. Wait. No, that wasn't quite right. Being a good student could actually make money.

Christian smacked his forehead as it finally hit him. There were all kinds of math and science competitions in middle and high school, and most of them came with prize money—anywhere from 5,000 to 20,000 dollars.

He could totally enter those competitions and win some prizes. If he placed high enough, he could even get into a good university without taking the regular entrance exams.

His eyes lit up. He'd finally found one thing about himself that wasn't completely useless. So, the book title could be upgraded to "Rebirth: I'm Not Too Much of a Loser".

With that decision made, even his footsteps felt lighter.

When he got back to the restaurant, Roger hurried over. "So? All settled?"

"Yep," Christian replied cheerfully.

"Did you tell Mama?" Roger asked nervously.

"Relax, I already called her and explained everything," Christian said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Phew. Thank God I don't have to take the blame anymore." Roger heaved a sigh of relief.

Christian's lips twitched as he watched him, but he didn't say anything. He just got to work.

The tense, busy day passed quickly. The next day, while Christian was bustling around in the kitchen, the manager, Tom Sutton, hurried in from the front.

"Chris, hold up. Someone's here to see you." Tom patted Christian on the arm.

"Who is it?" Christian asked, puzzled.

"Not sure who they are, but there's one man and two women. One of the women is older; she said she's the director of your orphanage."

"Huh?" Christian was baffled.

Hearing that, Roger jogged over. "What's going on?"

"Mama's here!" Christian said, pulling a face.

"Uh… oh, well, you'd better go then. I'm really busy, but tell her I said hi," Roger babbled, already trying to slip away. Truth was, he was terrified. He feared Imelda from the bottom of his heart.

Christian grabbed him and slung an arm around his shoulders with a grin. "Where are you going, Roger? Come with me to say hi."

"She's here to see you, not me. I'll sit this one out." Roger waved his hands in refusal.

"That won't do. Mama came all this way, and you're not even going to show your face? That's not right."

"It's totally right. I don't see any issue with it. Besides, I'm busy," Roger protested.

"You sure you're not coming?"

"Positive!"

"I only came to study in Kellington because you talked me into it, didn't you?" Christian smiled slyly.

"H-Hey! You can't just slander me like that," Roger said, flustered.

"I'm only 15. You think I could make a decision like that on my own? It's clear that you helped me with it."

"How dare you threaten me, you brat!" Roger gritted his teeth and glared at Christian.

"No way I'd do that. We're like brothers, aren't we? We stick with each other through good times and bad," Christian said, dragging Roger toward the front.

"You win," Roger muttered helplessly, having no choice but to follow Christian out to the lobby, dragging his feet.

When the two of them and Tom got there, one of the waiters, Bill Wood, ran over. "Mr. Sutton, the three guests just went up to the Rain Room on the second floor. They said Chris and Roger can go straight up."

"Got it. We'll head up, then. You guys get back to work, Mr. Sutton," Christian said.

After saying goodbye to Tom, Christian and Roger headed up to the Rain Room. The door was open, and voices drifted out from inside.

Christian stopped right at the doorway. The voices inside were all too familiar—they belonged to his biological parents, George and Jennifer.

He couldn't help frowning, his mind racing. What were they doing here? In his previous life, they weren't supposed to show up for another three days. Back then, they'd only been reunited with him after going to the orphanage.

So why were they three days early in this life? Was it the butterfly effect, throwing things off schedule? But the problem was that he hadn't had any dealings with the Ashwoods at all in this life. The timeline shouldn't have changed this much.

Roger noticed Christian standing there in a daze and elbowed him. "Chris, what are you spacing out for? Hurry up and go in."

Christian shot him a helpless look. He'd originally been thinking about finding a way to slip away and avoid seeing the Ashwoods altogether. But with Roger's big mouth, it felt like even the third floor could probably hear him, let alone this private room.

"Is that Chris? Come on in!" Imelda's voice floated out from the room.

"It's us, Mama. I missed you so much," Roger called out as he barreled into the room, practically launching himself at Imelda and wrapping both arms around hers, swinging it cutely.

Christian pressed a hand to his forehead. Roger's bootlicking skills were on par with those of slimy royal court subjects in period dramas.

"Alright, that's enough. My old bones can't take you shaking me like that," Imelda chided, pretending to be angry.

"Mama, you're still young. If anyone dares say you're old, I'll smack them silly," Roger said, laying it on even thicker.

Imelda might have been acting annoyed, but the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth gave her away. These were all kids she'd raised herself. She wasn't their birth mother, but she might as well have been. The fact that they clung to her like this just proved she'd done something right.

By now, Christian had also come in and was standing obediently at Imelda's side, looking more than a little guilty.

"Now, you feel guilty? Where's the nerve you had when you went and did things behind my back, only to tell me after the fact?" Imelda asked, deliberately putting on a stern face.

Christian didn't dare talk back. He could only give her a sheepish smile.

"Honestly. Anyway, I'm not here to lecture you today. There's something important we need to talk about." Imelda's expression turned serious.

Before she could introduce George and Jennifer, George had already walked right up to Christian, his face full of excitement as he looked him over.

Only then did Christian really take a good look at them.

George was tall—easily six feet, maybe a bit more. He looked pretty good, too. It was easy to imagine that he'd been a real looker when he was younger. His figure had gone a bit soft with age, a slight paunch starting to show. He wore an expensive suit, and the long years of being in a high position had given him a commanding presence.

Jennifer wasn't short, either. She wore a light blue satin dress, cinched at the waist with a belt. Even after having four children, her figure was still remarkably well-kept. She was in her 40s, but age hadn't left any traces on her face.

Her delicate brows and soulful eyes gave her a soft, refined beauty. Anyone could tell at a glance that Christian was definitely her flesh and blood. Their features were so alike that it was like they'd been carved from the same mold.

"You… You're Chris! God, you look just like Jennifer!" George's voice shook with emotion.

There it was again—the same pathetic act. In his previous life, Christian had been completely taken in by this performance. He'd been over the moon and had happily followed George and Jennifer home.

That had kicked off the three most miserable years of his life. No, his survival, because what he'd gone through back then couldn't even be called living a life.

Disgust churned in Christian's chest as he frowned at George, saying nothing.

At his lack of response, George hurried to explain, "I'm George Ashwood. I'm your father!"

"Stop." Christian lifted a hand to cut him off. He took a couple of steps back. "Mr. Ashwood, I've heard of you. You're the richest man in Janverton, after all. But you can't just go around claiming random people as family, can you?"

"How is this random?" George protested. "Look at your features, then look at your mother's. You two are identical. It's like you were carved from the same mold! There's no doubt that you're our biological son. We can do a DNA test if you don't believe me."

He slowly calmed down when he saw Christian's guarded reaction.

"Mr. Ashwood, and this is…?" Christian tilted his chin at Jennifer, still keeping his eyes on George.

"This is your mother, Jennifer Zeller," George answered.

"Right. Mr. and Mrs. Ashwood, I think there's something you're both getting wrong here. First, I'm not your son. There are plenty of people in this world with similar features; it's not exclusive to you and me.

"Second, I'm gonna say no to that DNA test you mentioned. I don't care what the result is, because for me, only one thing needs to be clear…" Christian met George's eyes, his gaze firm. "I'm an orphan."

"Chris, what are you saying? Everyone has biological parents. Nobody's born an orphan," Imelda said quickly, trying to smooth things over. "Haven't you always said that you wanted to find your biological parents? How can you refuse to acknowledge them now that they're standing right in front of you?"

As she spoke, she also shot furtive looks at Jennifer.

Christian caught that tiny detail, and a thought stirred in his mind. It felt like Imelda and his so-called birth mother had known each other for a long time. In his previous life, and in this one…

Suddenly, something hit him. In both lifetimes, the Ashwood family had never once gone to the orphanage to do charity work. The only time they ever did anything was when they'd come to take him away. Was there some kind of connection behind all this?

Christian turned to Imelda. "Mama, I'm 15 now. I can support myself; I don't need anyone to adopt me. Setting that aside, even if they really are my parents, I don't need to rely on them anymore. Over the years, when so many people wanted to adopt me, you turned them all down. So why are you trying to push me out the door today?"

"Oh, you. Those other people weren't your real parents. Of course I had to be cautious about letting them adopt you. This time, it's your actual mom and dad who've come looking for you. It's completely different!" Imelda said, while still sneaking anxious looks at Jennifer. She looked close to blurting something.

Jennifer hadn't said a word thus far, but she couldn't stay silent any longer. There was a complicated mix of emotions in her eyes—warmth, guilt, and something like anger or resentment.

Christian couldn't understand it. All he knew was that her moods shifted fast, like she had a screw loose.

"Chris, I'm sorry. I didn't protect you like I should have, and you grew up without a mother's love. Come home with me, okay? I'll make it up to you," Jennifer said softly, looking at him tenderly.

"You keep saying I'm your biological son. Can I ask you a few questions, then?" Christian asked, looking straight at her and George.

"Of course. Ask anything you want," George replied.