Chapter 87

"Mom, stop hitting me! Even if you beat me to death, we still have to deal with this!" Harold Martin dodged with a cheeky grin, knowing his mother wouldn’t really hurt him. As the only son in the family, doted on by his three older sisters and without any younger brothers to compete for attention, he was the apple of his mother’s eye.

Mrs. Martin stomped her foot in frustration. "You wretched boy! This time you’ve really gone too far!"

Harold grabbed his mother’s arm and dragged her inside, catching sight of his father squatting by the door smoking a pipe. He pulled him up too. "Dad, come on in. We need to talk this through."

The three of them huddled behind closed doors all night. The next day, Harold returned to work whistling as if nothing had happened. After his shift, he went back to his usual routine, arm in arm with his girlfriend, living without a care in the world.

Meanwhile, Clara Clark paced anxiously at home. "It’s been two days, and the Martins still haven’t made a move. I should go ask them!"

"Stop right there!" Mayor George Clark grabbed his wife’s arm. "Our daughter is carrying his child, and he’s not even in a hurry. If you go running after them, you’ll only humiliate yourself."

Lily Clark hid in her room, too ashamed to face anyone. Morning sickness had left her weak and gaunt. Clara’s heart ached as she wiped away tears, trying everything to cook nourishing meals for her daughter, but the pain in her chest was unbearable.

"It’s all my fault. I didn’t protect her..." Clara murmured through her tears. "That Harold was never any good—slick and untrustworthy. How will Lily survive this?"

She kept these thoughts to herself. She couldn’t tell her daughter not to marry him, yet she feared Lily would suffer if she did. Sleep eluded her night after night.

On the third day, the Martins finally showed up.

Clara’s face darkened the moment she opened the door—who came empty-handed for a marriage proposal? George, however, remained composed, inviting them in and asking his wife to serve tea.

Thud! Clara slammed down two bowls of plain water—not a single tea leaf in sight.

A smug glint flashed in Mrs. Martin’s eyes as she dusted off her clothes with a handkerchief. "Mayor Clark, our disgraceful son has brought shame upon us all. But time is of the essence—Lily’s condition..."

Splash! Before she could finish, a bowl of cold water hit her face.

"Get out!" Lily stood trembling in the doorway, her voice shaking with rage. "I’d rather abort this child than step foot in your house!"

Mrs. Martin wiped her face and sneered. "Oh, such a temper. Who else would want you in this state besides our Harold?"

"You—!" Lily’s face burned with humiliation as tears spilled over.

Mrs. Martin turned to George. "Mayor Clark, you see how it is. It’s not that we’re being unreasonable—your daughter looks down on us. If she wants to marry, it’ll be on our terms: no dowry, no wedding feast. Otherwise..." She cast a meaningful glance at Lily’s belly. "She can figure it out herself."

With that, she turned on her heel and left.