The photo weighed like a heavy stone in Ocelotte's heart.

Molly, just over ten years old, had been cornered by a group of delinquent girls, who had torn off her clothes and left her frail little body exposed. She stood in the alley, her eyes filled with confusion and fear.

Ocelotte burned the photo. From now on, no one would ever see it again—not even Molly herself.

Ocelotte held Molly's slender and fragile body tightly. At this moment, all his youthful indignation and pride seemed unimportant. He was willing to unconditionally forgive everything Molly had done to him. Compared to her childhood, Ocelotte felt he had been far too fortunate.

Ocelotte was willing to share half of his fortune with Molly.

Molly was held tightly in his arms. She tried to struggle, but Ocelotte refused to let go. His lips brushed against her soft ear as he whispered, finding her as endearing as a small animal, "Don’t move. Let me hold you."

Molly trembled in his embrace, her voice barely audi