Broken Memories, Intertwined Hearts

Chapter 243

"Ms Page ended up being really sweet to me. She treated me like your mom treats you. She said I was a clever and adorable little girl," Phoebe said with satisfaction.

Ines gave her a sideways glance, "And that's something to be proud of? Don't all parents flatter other people's children just to make themselves feel better? But deep down, they love their own kids the most." NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

"I can win over adults. That's my talent, get it?" Phoebe said nonchalantly.

Ines was left speechless and continued asking about their past. Phoebe thought for a bit and said seriously: "Maybe because of some things you've been through, you've become more reserved. The old you weren't as enthusiastic as me, but you were a naughty kid. You'd often annoy Hunter, but you knew how to sweet-talk him. I remember there was a time when you had a crush."

"A crush? How's that possible?" Ines looked at Phoebe doubtfully, questioning the validity of her words. Phoebe winked, "Alright, maybe not a crush. When we were about thirteen, a boy had a thing for you. He wrote you a love letter and gave you a box of chocolates. You didn't tell me who gave you the chocolates. You said that as long as there's something to eat, it's all good. We ate the chocolates together. Then you quietly put the love letter on Hunter's desk and left a note saying that someone was deliberately disturbing your studies." Phoebe laughed as she reminisced about the past, "As expected, Hunter was pissed and went straight to our head teacher to complain. The teacher ended up scolding the boy. I heard that the boy got in trouble at home and might have even been beaten. He didn't come to school for several days. No one ever dared to mess with you after that."

"Who was the unlucky kid?" Ines touched her nose.

"It was Aiden. You felt a bit guilty later and started to treat him a bit better."

Ines had an epiphany, so that's how her relationship with Aiden started, "Seems like I was quite a tyrant back then." "The more tyrannical part came later, when we were in the first year of high school. A new math teacher joined our class. He wasn't experienced enough and often couldn't answer your questions. You got angry, wrote a petition to change the teacher, and even got the whole class to sign it. This ended up with the principal, and you successfully got the new teacher out. He left in tears. The school replaced him with an experienced teacher, whom you discreetly gave a gift with a note that said, 'Dear teacher, if you don't perform well, you'll be the next one to leave in tears. Be careful.'"

"Haha," Ines couldn't help but laugh, looking at Phoebe, she said: "Stop making things up. There's no way I did that. I wouldn't do something like that."

"That's nothing. There was another time when you saw a bonfire party on TV and thought it was fun. You deliberately walked up to the most rebellious boy in our class while watching it on your tablet, mumbling about how the northeast corner of our school was perfect for a bonfire party. How exciting it would be to have such an event late at night. Your casual tone and demeanour almost made me laugh out loud."

Ines was interested in what happened next, "And then?" "It went exactly as you planned. That boy loved causing trouble, and of course, he wouldn't miss this opportunity. He started to rally everyone. At that time in A City, such events weren't popular. Everyone said they wanted to go, only you insisted we couldn't because the school didn't allow fire. But in the end, they dragged you along. We all had a barbecue, sang and danced around the bonfire. After you had your fill, you quietly texted to the teacher. As a result, half of the class got called in by their parents, except for us. During the parent's meeting, the teacher even praised us." "Actually, you were the one who secretly told the teacher and made her promise not to tell. You're so cunning. You wanted to have fun but let so many people take the blame for you. I thought to myself then. I want to be her friend for life, definitely not her enemy, or else I'll get screwed over."

"It sounds like I was really cunning. I feel like a little tyrant." Ines couldn't help but exclaim. Was the cunning person that Phoebe described really her? Phoebe looked quite pleased, "Don't you think that's very you? Otherwise, how could you have tricked your blind dates? That's because you were used to doing these things since you were little. Even after losing your memory, you could still pull it off. Fundamentally, you're still cunning, no better than me. That's why we became good friends."

Ines smiled faintly. She wished she could remember those days.

"But your father found out about this. Hunter knew it was you after the parent meeting, because you've asked him more than once to take you to such an event. The teacher even mentioned you. It was obviously not normal."

Ines was curious about her father's reaction, "So, did I get a beating?" Phoebe waved her hand, "Of course not. Hunter was very pleased. He even said you had potential and he should nurture you. The next day he put everything aside, and took you and Ms Page to the western area to attend a real bonfire party. You were very smug when you came back and called me late at night to tell me about it. I was so sleepy then, I really wished you'd go to sleep. You talk too much."

Ines couldn't help but laugh, it seemed that her personality was spoiled by her father. Most parents would have given a naughty child like her a good beating.

"You did so many things like this. I don't want to continue. I'll save them to tell my godsons later. Let them know about their mother's dark history."

Ines looked at Phoebe seriously, "Don't tell them. You'll spoil them."

Phoebe pondered for a moment, then pointed to Ines's belly and said, "Do you think with the bad kid genes from you and Mr Meyer, your kid even needs to learn how to be like that? It's already in their DNA. No extra training needed." Hearing this, Ines also raised her hand to gently stroke her belly, her face beaming with happiness.