The bastard bodyguard

A three-year-old boy, his life is very sad, unlike other children his age. Living in an inadequate environment, lack of education, or lack of upbringing from parents.

Oliver Reynold, a three-year-old boy, has experienced the cruel world. He lives with his uncle Rustic, who is an addict, a drunk, a gambler, and even a pickpocket. To make ends meet. Sometimes—Rustic Hernandez borrowed money from loan sharks for enormous sums of money. So, Oliver was often tormented by his uncle if he did not comply with his uncle's wishes.

The little boy could not resist his uncle's great power. He couldn't even fight back. And only silence is his protector.

The people around the neighbourhood could not help him because Rustic threatened to kill them if any of them helped Oliver.

Sometimes, Oliver wanted to be like other children. To be loved by their families. But that was all impossible for Oliver to get. Because he didn't know who his parents were. All he knew was that his mother was already on God's side after giving birth to him.

Oliver was taken care of by his uncle Rustic, who was none other than his late mother's brother.

Rustic himself never loved Oliver. He was always cruel, indoctrinating Oliver's mind with spectacles that were inappropriate for his age.

Not only that, Rustic taught him to pickpocket. Fighting with friends his age if he didn't get what Oliver wanted, and sometimes Oliver got sexually abused by the b*tch who often accompanied his uncle at night.

Like this time, Rustic told Oliver to be quiet, to sit on the bench his uncle had provided. To watch how his uncle f*ck*d the b*tch.

"Sit on that bench!" Rustic ordered without any resistance.

"But uncle," Oliver was eager to refuse, but Rustic pulled out a knife to scratch Oliver's tiny thigh.

"Do as I say, or you'll have this knife threatening your thigh!"

There were no other words for Oliver to choose. He nodded in obedience to his uncle's every request.

Before long, the b*tch came in wearing a super minimal dress. Showing off her curves.

At first glance, she turned to Oliver, smiling at him. "Honey, are you sure? We're going to have a sultry night in front of that boy!" pointed the b*tch, looking at Oliver deliciously.

"Yes, he'll still be here! Watching me strip you down one by one and making you moan my name!" Rustic kissed the woman lustfully in front of Oliver, who looked down, not daring to see their wild game.

Rustic, who knew Oliver, was looking down. He shouted for Oliver to raise his head, followed by his threat.

"Raise your head and see how I torture this woman! Or you die right now at my hands!"

Oliver was frightened by Rustic's threat, so he raised his head. Watching his uncle caress the woman and even torturing the woman, full of cruelty.

Living with his uncle made little Oliver's attitude more introverted. Even the little man tended to be alone, not like a little boy his age who always plays with his friends.

In addition, Rustic, the uncle, always poisoned his brain by telling him about his mother, who died at the hands of a rich man—making him plant a grudge against the rich family.

****

Twenty-four years later.

Oliver Reynold grew up to be a handsome, cold, and cruel man.

Growing up in a very bad neighbourhood made Oliver's true nature very cruel. The man always finishes off anyone who dares to disturb his peace.

Like now, Oliver did not hesitate to stab and even finish the person by stabbing the body in the stomach many times. And after he stabbed his victim. He left the body of the victim alone, not caring if the police tracked him down.

So far, the police had never searched or tracked his whereabouts, like someone was deliberately protecting Oliver from a distance.

"You're so weak! Just like that, you're dead," Oliver said, hissing as he flashed a smile.

After finishing off the man, Oliver returned to the place where he had lived all this time.

The area is referred to as the place where mashers seek warmth. Oliver had just stepped foot. One b*tch greeted him.

"Where have you been? Rustic's been looking for you," the b*tch said, asking Oliver.

With an icy stare, Oliver just gave a smile without replying to the b*tch's words. Walking past without turning his head.

"What an arrogant man! Good thing you're handsome, otherwise? I'll make sure I stomp on your face with my heels!" said the woman, annoyed by Oliver's indifferent attitude.

Back to Oliver.

Now Oliver was in his room, lying on a small bed. Occasionally, he sighs harshly.

Not long after, someone entered his room. "Is this how you get revenge on your mother, huh?"

"TSK…! You're always telling me to get revenge! But you didn't tell me where that person was," Oliver replied, chuckling at his uncle's question.

Rustic Adam Clifford, a fifty-four-year-old middle-aged man, was the only family Oliver had at the moment.

The middle-aged man had always demanded that Oliver avenge his brother. However, seeing that his nephew was not moving and looking for the whereabouts of the man who allegedly took his sister's life.

"How many times have I told you, Oliver? Go to the city and work there, then you'll find the man who took your mother's life!"

"You think it's that easy to find someone, huh? Why aren't you looking for him? You're telling me to look for him, d*mn it!" he said, replying to Rustic's words.

"*ssh*l*! You called me a jerk! After I took care of you and raised you like this! Son of a b*tch, get lost!"

Rustic grabbed Oliver by the collar, waking him up from the bed. He slammed his nephew's body against the wall so hard.

Not only that, Rustic punched Oliver's handsome face, causing the corners of his lips to ooze a thick red liquid.

"Son of a gun! You dare to fight me, huh? Now you taste this," Rustic continued to nail Oliver, showing no mercy. His emotions were overflowing, angry.

Various punches, kicks, fists. Rustic gave them to Oliver, but Oliver never returned any of his uncle's punches, kicks, or fists.