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The Three Little Guardian Angels

Chapter 2042
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Chapter 2042 The next day, Daisie looked for Waylon in the room next to hers. She was about to knock when she

realized the door was not exactly closed. She peered through the lean crack and saw Waylon talking to a man in

front of his window. “You sure that was Neal Beck?” The man nodded. “Yes. I dug a little deeper, too. All they know

it‘s that he‘s some sort of VIP Cameron Southern met while conducting business abroad. He was obviously very well

regarded, considering how Mr. Southern later made him the governor of The Commune traditionally The Serpents‘

territory.” 

Waylon narrowed his eyes. 

‘Neal Beck... A stranger the Southern heir brought home.‘ Had he not already known Nollace was rescued by

Cameron, he would have never suspected ‘Neal Beck‘ to be a pseudonym. 

This Neal had to be Nollace. 

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“Please continue your work. See if you can gather more useful information.” The man gave a small nod.

“Understood.” 

Daisie ducked behind the wall the moment the man turned. When the door was yanked open, she came out of

hiding and assumed the pretense of having just arrived. “Hey, Waylon!” 

The man froze in mid–walk. He turned to his boss. Waylon nodded. 

The man left, and the older brother fixed his eyes on Daisie. “Heard it all?” Daisie smiled disarmingly. “What? No!

No way! I just came here!” Waylon walked up to her and gave a light tap on her head. “You‘re such a terrible liar.”

She scratched the side of her head, embarrassed. “Fine, fine. You... found some lead to Nolly‘s whereabouts, didn‘t

you?” 

“More or less.” Waylon started toward the couch. He fell into his seat and picked up his coffee. “But you still can‘t

see him at the moment.” 

“It‘s not like I must see him, okay?” She protested as she hastily took her seat next to him. Lowering her voice, she

added, “I just... want to make sure he‘s okay.” 

Waylon laughed and cast a lopsided glance at her. “Oh, he‘s very okay.” “Anyway, Saydie said Sunny is willing to join

hands with the Metropolis. Is that true?” “That‘s right.” He sipped his coffee and set the cup down. “Sunny

undoubtedly decided to join this alliance after considering his family‘s future. Even the mightiest adversary

becomes surmountable when you have a powerful ally.” Regardless of the Southern Clan‘s strength, they still had

more than enough reasons to worry about Fabio‘s expansionist ambition. It was only natural that the Southern Clan

would consider joining an alliance. Daisie smiled. “Cameron‘s the heir, isn‘t he? If we buddy up with him now, it‘s

gonna benefit you a lot in the future, right?” 

Waylon shifted his attention to her. He could not stifle his laughter. “You‘re actually giving your big brother‘s future

some thought!” 

Daisie wrapped her arms around his. “And that‘s only because you‘re my big brother! Plus, there‘s also that lady

who‘s on her way to being a spinster, Florence Serrano. We gotta worry about it. I think she has her eyes set on

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you, but I‘m not about to let just any woman become my sister–in–law. Especially not someone so massively

unqualified as her!” 

There was no way they could avoid crossing paths with Florence—they had already offended her. Meanwhile,

Cameron looked to be around their age, and he did not seem like a nasty person to boot. Not only could they count

on him for cooperation, but he could be the shield defending Waylon from Florence‘s advances. 

Waylon saw through her thoughts almost a little too handily. He pinched her nose as though he could not believe

her. “Do you know what your plan entails? I‘m gonna have to flatter someone‘s ego for it to work!” 

Daisie cracked out a grin. “Well, if we‘re gonna rely on him a little, then what‘s the harm in flattering our ally‘s

ego?” A few days passed... Cameron slept all the way to the afternoon before a commotion from downstairs stirred

him. He heard approaching footsteps shuffling to a stop right outside the draping curtains, which separated

Cameron‘s quarter from the world outside. The maid reported, “Mr. Serrano had come to talk to Mr. Southern.”

Cameron sat up. Long, raven–black hair spread out like a tapestry from his head. “What‘s he doing here?”