Chapter 123
Luna supported Grandma Eleanor as they slowly made their way to the front yard. Fiona was squatting in the yard, chopping pig feed with a cleaver. The dull thud-thud of the blade striking the wooden block echoed through the air.
When Fiona looked up, the cleaver slipped from her hand and clattered to the ground.
"G-Grandma?" Her eyes widened, her mouth hanging open in shock.
The doctor had said Grandma Eleanor would never walk again!
Fiona scrambled to her feet, her voice shrill with panic. "Luna! Have you lost your mind? Why did you bring your grandmother out here? If she falls, who’ll take responsibility?" She turned and shouted toward the house, "Jack! Come out here!"
Luna replied calmly, "Grandma wanted to come out. She has something to say."
Jack White pushed aside the curtain and stepped outside. The moment he saw Grandma Eleanor standing in the yard, his face twisted in alarm. He jabbed a finger at Luna. "Nonsense! Your grandmother can’t even speak! First Luna turns rebellious, and now you? Take her back inside—now!"
Slap!
A sharp crack rang through the yard.
Jack clutched his cheek, staring at Grandma Eleanor in disbelief. Her hand remained raised, trembling with fury.
"You ungrateful wretch!" she spat, each word deliberate. "I’m your mother! And this is how you treat me? Leaving me in the back room to rot?"
Jack’s face burned, but what terrified him more was the fact that she could speak again. His eyes darted, and he immediately dropped to his knees.
"Mom, I was wrong—"
Just then, the gate creaked open. Mayor George Clark and the village officials filed in, with Luna bringing up the rear. She quickly darted to Grandma Eleanor’s side.
"What’s going on here?" Mayor George asked, taking in the tense scene. "Let’s get Grandma inside to talk."
Luna and Luna flanked Grandma Eleanor as they helped her into the main house—the very room that had once been hers but had since been taken over by Jack and Fiona. Freshly laundered bedding lay on the kang, carrying the scent of sunshine.
Luna swiftly arranged the bedding, helping Grandma Eleanor settle comfortably against the headboard.
The village officials followed them inside. Beads of sweat formed on Jack’s forehead, and he kicked Fiona. "What are you standing around for? Get some water!"
Fiona caught his meaning and hurried to make sweetened tea. If Grandma Eleanor still acknowledged Jack as her son, there was still room to maneuver.
"Mayor," Grandma Eleanor rasped, her voice hoarse but firm, "I’ve called you here today to witness my will."
The room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.
"My house, my land—if I die of natural causes, they’ll go to Jack. But if my death is anything less than peaceful..." She paused, her clouded eyes sharpening. "Then everything goes to Ethan. Not a single cent to this wretched son of mine!"
"Mother!" Jack collapsed to his knees. "You’re signing my death warrant!"
Grandma Eleanor sneered and slowly rolled up her sleeve.
A horrifying array of bruises and pinches covered her arm—some already purple, others still oozing fresh blood.
Amy Miller, the women’s affairs director, gasped. "What in the world—?"
Every pair of eyes in the room turned toward Jack, their gazes sharp as knives.