Chapter 574: Suspicion
Seeing Clayton Xavier’s dazed expression, the Old Madam said kindly, "You’ll come to understand these things over time. It’s normal not to grasp it all at once. In the future, if there’s anything you don’t understand, just come and ask me."
"Okay."
Clayton Xavier’s expression was complicated, his heart in turmoil. He was seeing his grandmother in a new light.
He had always thought of his grandmother as a kind and compassionate old woman. Whenever people from Xavier Village came seeking medical treatment, she would always help them enthusiastically, never charging a single cent. The villagers all said she was a living saint and sang her praises.
But those cold, unfamiliar words had come from his grandmother’s own mouth. She had told him to betray a friend, to make friends with false pretenses, and even said her kindness to the people of Xavier Village was just an act to win them over...
A chill crept into Clayton Xavier’s heart. He was having a hard time processing it all. By the time he reached the ground floor, he was still in a daze.
His grandmother’s kind face flickered in his mind, one moment benevolent and warm, the next cold and ruthless, then twisting into a terrifying snarl...
Clayton Xavier tapped the side of his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Verna Golding, who had been hesitating to speak, finally said, "Don’t listen to everything your grandmother says. The most important thing about making friends is that true feelings must be met with true feelings."
She had wanted to say something back in the room. She didn’t agree with her mother-in-law’s words at all. What was the point of earning money if you had to give up all sense of loyalty and friendship? Verna Golding certainly didn’t want her son to become a cold-blooded, heartless person.
Clayton Xavier’s confusion lifted, and a sense of relief washed over him. It was as if he had been lost in a thick fog and had suddenly spotted a streetlamp guiding his way forward.
Verna Golding continued, "I’m not educated, and I don’t know any grand philosophies, but the most important thing in life is to act with a clear conscience. Adrian Hawthorne helped you so much. If you were to go behind his back and steal his opportunity, you’d be indebted to him for the rest of your life. We can’t be those kinds of ungrateful, despicable people."
Clayton Xavier nodded. "I won’t."
Verna Golding smiled, relieved. She reached out and patted Clayton Xavier’s cheek. "Tomorrow, I’ll go into town to get some meat and make you dumplings."
"Could you make some extra? I’d like to bring some to Mr. Tate."
"Of course. I’ll put in plenty of meat."
Verna Golding nodded. It was important to show respect to the teacher. They had been too poor to give him proper gifts before, but now that her son was earning money, paying their respects to Mr. Tate was a priority.
As they passed Storm Xavier’s room, she heard a faint cough from within. Verna Golding frowned slightly, feeling a deep sense of irritation, but she didn’t let it show in front of her son.
A CLANG came from inside the room. Clayton Xavier stopped and turned toward Storm Xavier’s room. He hadn’t had a chance to check on his father in the past couple of days and didn’t know how he was doing.
Verna Golding hurried after him, getting in front of Clayton Xavier to push open the door. A thick, medicinal smell billowed out. The room was dark, the curtains drawn tight. The air was heavy and foul, like a net hung with rotting fish—nauseating and cloying.
"WHEEZE... WHEEZE..."
Storm Xavier was rasping for breath, his chest heaving like a bellows. His face was nothing but a thin layer of skin stretched taut over bone, his eye sockets so sunken he looked no different from a skull. When he saw Clayton Xavier enter, a flicker of light appeared in his eyes, and his expression grew more urgent.
’Only my son can save me now. That old hag and that damned pockmarked bitch both want me dead. I can only rely on my son.’
An enamel cup lay on the floor, having rolled to the foot of the bed. Most of its white paint had chipped off. Verna Golding picked it up. With her back to Clayton Xavier, she shot a vicious, threatening glare at the man in the bed. "If you want water, call me. What’s the point of throwing your cup?"
Verna Golding grabbed the thermos to pour some water, but it was empty. She had to go out to fill it. The moment she left, Storm Xavier struggled to sit up, looking like he wanted to say something. But he couldn’t form any words anymore. His throat felt like it was blocked, and all he could manage were simple, guttural sounds.
Storm Xavier’s hand trembled as he gestured in the air a few times. Clayton Xavier frowned slightly, a deeply unsettling feeling creeping into his heart. ’Dad just has a summer cold. How can he not even be able to speak?’
’His illness... it’s probably not that simple, is it?’