It all started with an unexpected incident.
Back then, Winston was just a boy–eight or nine years old.
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It was a gloomy day, the sky heavy with clouds. Winston had snuck out of the Ginger family estate to feed
a stray puppy.
But what he didn’t expect-
Was danger falling from the sky.
He was kidnapped.
Reading this, Jean couldn’t help but widen her eyes in shock. She muttered under her breath, “Kidnapped?”
She had been through that kind of trauma herself… It was a harrowing experience.
She hadn’t imagined Winston had gone through the same thing—at such a young age.
She quickly typed out a message to Dalton.
Jean: “Kidnapped? Are you serious? I can’t believe my brother went through something like that when he was just a kid.”
Jean: “Stuff like that really leaves a mark.”
Dalton: “You think I’d make this up? I’m telling you, your brother’s had it rough…”
Jean stayed quiet, letting Dalton continue his story.
The kidnappers were probably after money. They saw Winston sneaking out from a mansion that looked like a palace, dressed head to toe in designer labels–and they got greedy.
A kid that age couldn’t possibly fight off an adult.
Winston was shoved into a dirty, chaotic van, tied up hand and foot.
He couldn’t do anything–just lie there helplessly as the van sped away, carrying him farther and farther from home, until they reached a remote, desolate stretch of countryside.
The man who took him was tall and hot–tempered.
Any time Winston showed the slightest sign of resistance, the man would beat him–fists and k
mercy.
Bruised and battered, the little boy endured it all….
But Winston didn’t lose his head to fear.
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