Free Web NovelChapter 239: Chapter 239 Little Thief
Christina’s POV
"Wake up, sleepyhead!" Ysolde knocked on my door before my alarm even went off.
She’d already pulled her hair into a high ponytail and was studying a map on her phone, practically bouncing with excitement.
"We need to leave early if we want good photos without tourists photobombing us," she announced, shoving her phone in front of my sleepy eyes.
The screen showed the Elmridge trailhead with a bunch of starred pins marking our route.
"First stop for sunrise shots," she explained, tapping the first marker. "Then here for the view. By noon, we’ll reach the top."
I nodded, still half asleep. "Got it."
Akira stirred in my mind. "This hike better be worth it. I’m still tired from last night."
"Blame Hudson and his endless energy," I replied silently.
We hit the hotel’s breakfast buffet before eight, loading our plates with protein for the hike ahead. I’d just come back from refilling my coffee when I heard Ysolde’s chair scrape against the floor.
She jerked forward, her stomach hitting the table edge. "What the—"
I turned around to see a grubby little boy, maybe five or six, giggling after deliberately ramming into Ysolde’s chair. Two adults who I assumed were his parents sat at a nearby table, completely ignoring their kid’s behavior.
The kid kicked Ysolde’s chair again, laughed, then reached for her designer bag on the seat beside her. freёwebnoѵel.com
"Kids with no manners raising future brats," Akira growled.
I walked over to the adults’ table. "Excuse me, would you mind watching your son?"
The woman barely looked up. "Yeah, sure."
Then she went back to her overpriced avocado toast without saying a word to her child. The kicking continued.
I raised my voice. "Your son has been kicking my friend’s chair for five minutes and just tried to grab her bag. Are you really not going to do anything?"
Ysolde lifted her bag, showing the loosened clasp. "This was custom-made. He nearly broke it."
The father glanced at the bag dismissively. "It’s just a bag. What do you want, money?"
Ysolde’s eyes narrowed. "That’s not the point. How about teaching your kid to respect other people’s stuff? And an apology would be nice."
"He’s just a kid," the man scoffed. "Why are you attacking a child? I’m a VIP here. My son has every right to enjoy his breakfast. If you don’t like it, move somewhere else."
I frowned at the stupid logic. Being a VIP meant your kid could act like a wild animal?
"He might be a child, but you’re not. Apologize," I said firmly. "And your kid disrupted our table, not the other way around. Why should we move?"
The man’s voice got louder. "You’re disrupting my meal now! Making a scene and bothering everyone—"
I looked around the nearly empty restaurant and rolled my eyes.
His wife jumped in. "You’re seriously picking on a five-year-old? That’s pathetic."
The kid stuck his tongue out at us, clearly encouraged by his parents’ support.
Suddenly, Ysolde reached into her bag and froze. "Where are they? I swear I packed them this morning."
"What’s missing?" I asked, though I already suspected the answer.
"My limited-edition Finnish headphones. The ones Emmett got me for my birthday. I packed them myself this morning."
"You’re certain they were in there?"
"One hundred percent."
We both turned our attention to the smirking child, then to his clueless parents.
Ysolde spoke first, her tone controlled. "We’re looking for a pair of headphones. We’re wondering if your son might have taken them by accident."
The mother scoffed. "Earphones? What are they worth, five dollars? Are you that desperate?"
Ysolde’s voice went cold. "They’re a discontinued Finnish designer release. Twelve thousand retail. Twenty now, if you can even find them."
The couple exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.
The father’s eyes swept over our casual hiking clothes with obvious contempt. "You two probably saved all year for this buffet. Now you’re trying to run some scam over fake designer headphones? Really classy."
A hotel staff member finally approached, his face professionally blank. His name tag read "Bruce Zed."
I addressed him directly. "My friend’s property is missing. We want to check the security cameras."
Bruce didn’t even look at us. Instead, he focused on the VIP couple.
"I’m afraid I can’t authorize that," he said flatly.
"You’re kidding," Ysolde muttered.
"They’re accusing my son of theft!" the father exploded. "One stupid headset and they’re claiming it’s worth twelve grand. This is obviously a scam! Bruce, remove these women."
I held my ground. "We never explicitly accused your son of stealing anything. If that’s your immediate assumption, maybe that says something about his behavior."
Ysolde crossed her arms. "Mine had cartoon stickers all over them. If the kid took them because he liked them, just return them now and we won’t involve the police."
I turned back to Bruce. "This isn’t complicated. Just review the footage."
He remained unmoved. "I need to protect our guests’ privacy." freewebnσvel.cѳm
"Guests or your friends?" I challenged. "You’ve been exchanging glances with them since this conversation started."
Bruce cleared his throat. "Mr. Happy is a valued VIP. I would be negligent in my duties if I allowed a misunderstanding to upset such an important client."
Happy. Seriously? The irony was painful. He smirked triumphantly. "I’ve encountered this scam before. Create drama, claim something expensive is missing, demand compensation. I’m not falling for it."
I narrowed my eyes. "We don’t want your money. We just want the headphones back."
Bruce’s expression tightened. "If you continue disturbing our guests, I’ll have security escort you out."
"Please do," I said coolly. "I’d love to hear you explain to them why you refused to check security footage when guests reported stolen property."
The boy snickered from behind his mother’s legs. That’s when I noticed the bulge in his small fist. Something white and round with a glossy case and the exact cartoon stickers I’d helped Ysolde apply this morning.
"Don’t bother with the cameras," I said, pointing. "He’s holding them right now."
