Harold had been waiting in the yard for a long time. When he saw the two of them finally emerge, he let out a long sigh of relief and greeted her with a smile. "Good evening, My Lady. How was your day? Did you see the deer?".

Arabella said crossly, "It was terrible. I didn't see any deer. You were right there when Frederick abandoned me. You aren't a good person either!".

Harold was momentarily speechless, clearing his throat awkwardly. Having served Frederick for years, he was used to high-society ladies who were always polite and maintained a sense of decorum even when they were furious. A girl like Arabella, with her "innocent, childish directness," was both a headache and a source of amusement.

"It was my fault, My Lady. I should have reminded the Master to pick you up sooner. He was indeed far too busy today".

After half a minute, Arabella walked over to Harold and apologized herself. "Butler Harold, I didn't mean to lose my temper. I just haven't quite recovered yet".

Harold was somewhat flattered. "It's quite alright. You had every right to be upset," he said with a smile.

Standing to the side and listening to their exchange, the corner of Frederick's mouth turned up. 

The helicopter was still parked on the vast green lawn. The powerful downdraft hit Arabella's flushed face, cooling her down. The head of the JH Club was there to see them off with great respect.

The man who had tried to grab Arabella earlier—only to be thrown—was also present. His arm was dislocated, and he was wearing a bandage from the hospital.

Frederick glanced at him. "How were you injured?"

The man kept his head down. "It's nothing major, sir. I just had a clumsy fall".

Frederick nodded. "If you're hurt, go home and rest. Process it as a workplace injury through HR".

Arabella felt very guilty. Since she couldn't understand what they were saying, she was afraid the man was complaining to Frederick. Worried that Frederick would think she was "not a good girl" and change his mind about taking her, she quickly let go of his hand and scurried onto the helicopter. 

Frederick let out a short laugh. "You don't need to run so fast. I told you I wouldn't leave you behind again".

Arabella pursed her lips. She had no intention of asking what they had just discussed. Frederick didn't look unhappy, and she knew better than to "walk into a trap" by bringing it up herself. She had that much cleverness.

The cabin door slid shut automatically, sealing out the noise.

As the plane rose slowly, the buildings and trees below began to shrink. In that moment, Arabella finally felt as though she had woken from a day-long nightmare. Her eyes were still red and heavily tear-stained. Suddenly, she unbuckled her belt, crawled over to Frederick, and sat in his lap.

Frederick instinctively wrapped his arms around her; one arm was enough to encircle her completely. "What's wrong?".

Arabella clutched his suit lapel and inhaled the crisp, clean scent of him. It gave her an immense sense of security. Frederick found her very "sticky," but he didn't dislike it. Being "sticky" was also the quality of a good child.

He liked his little bird clinging to him.

Arabella brooded for a moment before saying unhappily, "Frederick, if you ever abandon me again, I will never forgive you as long as I live. And I will absolutely never love you again. I'll even hate you". Her innocence carried a primal streak; her love and hate were both incredibly intense.

"I will stay with you until you recover your memory," Frederick promised solemnly.

"What does that mean?" Arabella's eyes widened, taking him literally. "You can stay with me after I get my memory back, too! You have to stay with me forever and ever. You aren't allowed to abandon me. You aren't allowed to leave me".

Frederick smiled, stroking her long hair. "I will".

Arabella buried her face in his chest. It was so comfortable here—soft yet firm, fragrant and warm. It carried a fatally attractive scent that reminded her of a mother's embrace. Once she was tucked in, she didn't want to come out, sinking her face into the breadth of his chest.

The fabric of his clothes transmitted the heat and scent of his skin like an inviting tropical fruit. Arabella felt an urge to "peel away the skin" and truly bury herself inside.

Frederick gently patted her back. Why did this girl keep trying to burrow into his chest? He felt helpless, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "What a poor little thing".

"Mommy..." she whispered.

"Hm?" Frederick hadn't caught her mutter.

"Mommy." Arabella lifted her face, her chin still resting against his chest, unwilling to pull away. "I've already started seeing you as my Mommy".

"..........."

It took Frederick three seconds to process the meaning of her words, finally understanding the source of the Little Bird's strange dependency and clinginess.

So, she had been treating him as... a mother?

If she couldn't change this perception, things would become quite troublesome. After all, Frederick had no intention of simply being her "mommy".

Frederick suddenly let out a low laugh, the night light soaking into his handsome and magnificent features. He gently pinched Arabella's chin and lowered his head to her level. 

"Poor thing, you can only occasionally treat me as your mother—perhaps when you are homesick," Frederick murmured.

"Why? You said I was a 'good girl,'" Arabella countered, her voice small. "Only a mother would say that".

Frederick sighed, lifting her chin slightly higher. "You can't treat every person who praises you as your mother".

Arabella sensed his reluctance and, though she understood, a wave of disappointment washed over her. "Alright then".

Her amnesia had returned her mental state to that of a fledgling, leaving her with a heavy, child-like dependency that required a parental figure to latch onto.

She had briefly considered asking him to be her boyfriend, but in her mind, a boyfriend lacked the weight of a mother. A boyfriend could be discarded if he was no longer liked, but one would never discard a mother, and a mother would love her for a lifetime.

However, she soon brightened up again and offered a new invitation: "If you don't want to be my mother, then you can be my father. My father is very capable, too".

A father? Frederick wasn't quite that perverted.

Frederick raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes deepening as a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Poor thing, your father is someone else entirely... but I can be your Daddy".

Arabella looked at him with confusion. "Daddy... doesn't that just mean father? Don't try to trick me; my English is very good".

Her full, fleshy lips moved as she spoke. Beneath her innocent, child-like bluntness, there was an undeniable sensuality that belonged to a woman.

Frederick smiled and pressed his thumb against the center of her lower lip. It was plump, crimson, and full of elasticity; he knew that whether it was touched, bitten, or taken into one's mouth, it would feel incredible.

He leaned in closer to her, his voice dropping into a heavy, dark vibration. "'Daddy' has many meanings, good girl. You can explore with me".