The Bigshot Married Himself to the Heiress-Chapter 524 - 525: Love in the heart, difficult to express

Chapter 524: Chapter 525: Love in the heart, difficult to express

Samara saw the blonde-haired man holding a switchblade, about to stab Aaron Faber. Without a second thought, her only instinct was to save Aaron Faber.

So, she wrenched herself free from the person gripping her arm, snatched up a stone from the ground, and smashed it against the blonde-haired man’s head.

Everything happened so fast. By the time everyone else reacted, the blonde-haired man’s head had been split open; he collapsed to the ground, motionless.

Everyone was stunned. These young hoodlums were usually vicious and brutal, but they had never actually taken a life before.

Seeing their Boss killed by Samara, one of the hoodlums roared, "I’ll avenge the Boss!" and lunged toward Samara.

"You damn bitch! How dare you hit our Boss! Brothers, get her!"

Samara was completely stunned. She was a pampered girl who usually wouldn’t even bring herself to step on an ant; her burst of courage just now had been an act of sheer desperation.

"I killed someone... I killed someone..."

The man on the ground lay motionless, blood still oozing from his head. Samara was terrified. She backed away, completely at a loss.

"Damn bitch, let’s see if we don’t finish you today—" The red-haired hoodlum suddenly fell silent. He clutched the knife wound in his lower back, staring in disbelief at the man who had stabbed him.

He couldn’t believe it. The man they had been trampling and brutally beating just moments ago—how could he suddenly be so ruthless?

Aaron Faber pulled the knife from the red-haired hoodlum’s waist. Holding the blood-stained dagger, he started towards Samara. The first thing Samara saw was the dagger, still dripping blood. She turned and fled.

"Samara, it’s me..."

Samara ran desperately deeper into the forest, Aaron Faber chasing after her. The further they went, the more difficult the terrain became. There were many low-lying bushes, and the tall Aaron Faber was actually slower than the petite Samara.

"...Samara, stop running!" Aaron Faber panted. "I’ll take you home."

Samara didn’t respond.

"Samara, your Sister asked me to protect you. I have my phone; if you don’t believe me, you can call your Sister."

The frantically running girl finally stopped. Aaron Faber stood there, panting heavily, gasping for breath. I’m so useless! he thought.

"Please, stop running... I can’t catch up to you."

Aaron Faber’s body, unaccustomed to such exertion, was already past its limit. His heart hammered as if it were about to explode from the violent exercise.

"Samara, come over here."

He didn’t rush forward to chase her but beckoned to her with a wave of his hand.

"Uncle Aaron!" She stood there, looking at Aaron Faber’s face, and only then did she begin to recover from her terror.

"It’s okay now, don’t be afraid." Aaron Faber walked over to Samara. Looking at him, she thought of how he’d been injured because of her, and her heart filled with guilt.

"It’s all my fault... I’m so sorry, I got you hurt..." Samara’s hands were dirty, and as she wiped her eyes, she smudged her face into a mess.

"No, I’m the useless one. I didn’t protect you properly." Aaron Faber felt even more guilt and self-reproach.

Aaron Faber cursed himself inwardly. Why didn’t I learn some self-defense, like grappling, from Brett Jacobs and the others? Getting beaten up by a few punks like this... How can I ever show my face in public again?

"Uncle Aaron, I killed someone... Am I going to jail? How many years... will I get?"

Samara was completely lost in the overwhelming sorrow of having killed someone, the fear of going to jail, and the thought of never seeing her family again.

"Who said you’re going to jail?"

How could she even think of that? he wondered.

"But if you kill someone, don’t you go to jail?"

"You’re still a minor!"

"Minors still get sent to juvenile detention! What’s the difference between that and jail..." Samara, with no regard for her appearance, plopped down on the ground, lost in her sorrow, and began to sob softly.

"...Does that mean I won’t see my family again? And I won’t see Curly either? Curly’s still so little... When I get out, will she even remember me?"

Aaron Faber was exhausted too. He sat down beside her, looked at the blood-stained dagger in his hand, and then tossed it away. He had run with the dagger earlier because he was worried those men might pick it up and come after them. Alone, I’m no match for those six hoodlums, he thought.

"I’m sorry..." Aaron Faber said, his voice full of remorse. Today had driven home a harsh lesson: no matter how high his IQ, it was useless in the face of brute force.

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"Because I didn’t protect you."

Aaron Faber looked at the somewhat bewildered girl, desperately trying to suppress the tempestuous emotions raging within him. I can’t frighten her, he thought.

"...You’re not my anything, so why should you have to protect me? Even if you hadn’t done anything for me today, I couldn’t blame you."

Samara’s understanding only made Aaron Faber feel more dejected. So, in her heart, I’m a complete stranger, he thought.

"...Thank you for today. If it hadn’t been for you..." Samara clutched the fabric over her chest and whispered, "I... I definitely would have been... bullied by them..."

Aaron Faber’s gaze rested on her for a moment. He longed to ask just how far they had gone with their bullying, but the words wouldn’t come out.

"Those guys won’t get away. I’ll teach them a harsh lesson for you."

Samara remained silent for a moment.

Aaron Faber thought his performance today had disappointed Samara, that she didn’t trust his ability. He quickly vowed, "Believe me, I will teach them a harsh lesson for you!"

"They didn’t... do anything to me... It’s just..."

"Just what...?"

Samara thought of the young man lying on the ground, and her heart felt as if a heavy stone were crushing it. She looked down at her pale hands, still stained with blood. She rubbed them together fiercely, trying to wipe the blood away.

"Will the police come and arrest me?"

"No!"

"But what if they do come to arrest me?"

Aaron Faber smiled. "If they come to arrest you, I’ll take the fall for you, okay?"

"This..."

"Even if I have to go to jail, I won’t let you go! Do you believe me?"

Aaron Faber looked down and noticed a butterfly on Samara’s shoulder. He reached out to catch it. Startled, Samara cried out, "What are you doing?"

"There’s a butterfly." Aaron Faber held his hand out in front of Samara; a butterfly was pinched between his fingers.

"Let it go... quickly!" Samara said suddenly.

"What’s wrong?"

"Its wings are so fragile; you’ll hurt its wings! Hurry... hurry... let it go!"

Seeing her anxious and pained expression, Aaron Faber loosened his fingers. Perhaps he had squeezed too hard, for the butterfly was unable to fly.

Samara looked at him with tear-filled, reproachful eyes. "It’s all your fault! See? Its wings are really hurt..."

She carefully cupped the injured butterfly in her hands, her face etched with distress. Aaron Faber said awkwardly, "If you like them, I’ll get you lots of butterflies."

Samara didn’t answer, looking with tender care at the injured butterfly. Aaron Faber watched her. Even though he had been utterly pathetic today, he still felt incredibly fortunate for this moment alone with her.