Reborn From Oblivion

The McCoy family was renowned, with roots in the military, business, and politics. Members of the McCoy family were known for their strict yet adaptable nature. From the guard at the gate to the nanny, and even the household's heads, they maintained a formal demeanor with strangers but revealed a warm, approachable, and humorous side to their family.

When Ashley arrived at the McCoy family's doorstep, the guard greeted her with a respectful salute, "Is Ashley here?"

Ashley's smile shone brightly as she replied, "Is Morris home? I came to see him."

The guard nodded seriously, "Ashley, please follow me."

He led Ashley into the mansion's grand hallway, where a nanny received Ashley's gift, inspecting it with meticulous care before handing it back.

Passing the baton, the guard said, "Ashley is now in your care. I'm heading back to my post."

The nanny nodded with a slight smile, "Alright."

The guard turned and left.

The nanny guided Ashley through a maze of corridors, up and down stairs, finally reaching a dimly lit basement.

At the door, the nanny pressed a distinctive doorbell, producing a unique chime.

From inside came a deep, husky voice, tinged with a chill, "Come in."

The nanny gave Ashley a serious warning, "Miss, our young master has a bit of a temper. When you talk

to him, just go along with what he says. Don't upset him; it could be serious."

Ashley felt a wave of nerves but said, "Okay."

She took a deep breath at the door before quietly pushing it open.noveldrama

The room was dim, with a soft yellow light casting a glow over the luxurious bookshelves, adding to the room's quiet, mysterious vibe.

In the middle sat a wheelchair. Its

design was unique, made of shiny black metal with sturdy rods, crafted

with intricate joinery. Despite its robust look, the wheelchair seemed delicate against the room's vastness.

A man sat in the wheelchair.

Draped in a soft white shirt, the man's tall and slender frame was evident even seated. His straight posture exuded a noble air.

With his back to her, Ashley found

herself oddly captivated by the back of his head, thinking she'd never seen one so striking. She chuckled at her own peculiar attraction.

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"Morris," she called softly.

"I made you some chicken soup."

The man remained silent.

The air thickened with tension.

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"Our chefs are top-notch; they can handle such things," he finally spoke, his voice smooth and commanding, with a surprising touch of youthful softness.

Captivating and intriguing.

Ashley felt more uneasy, unsure whether to put down the soup or keep holding it.

She waited for him to speak again, but he remained silent, choosing his words sparingly.

Finally, mustering up her courage, Ashley said, "Morris, I actually came to ask you for a favor."