Chapter 575: A Cry for Help
"Hhhh... hhhh..."
Storm Xavier gestured a few more times, but his hand was shaking too violently. He barely managed to trace the word ’help’ in the air before Verna Golding pushed open the door and came in. Terror filled Storm Xavier’s eyes. He immediately snatched his hand back and looked pleadingly at Clayton Xavier.
"Drink your water."
Verna Golding fed Storm Xavier the water, her movements anything but gentle. As if he hadn’t had a drink in days, Storm Xavier gulped down the entire large cup in one go. All the while, his eyes were fixed on Clayton Xavier. His son was his only hope of getting out of here alive.
’He couldn’t just die here, wronged. He had to escape. When his father got back, he would surely punish that old hag severely. And he had to divorce that damned pockmarked woman, too. He was the young master of the Xavier family; an ugly, pockmarked woman was completely beneath him. If that old hag hadn’t drugged him back then, how could he possibly have fathered Clayton Xavier with her?’
’Afterward, he had been so disgusted he couldn’t eat for three days. But what disgusted him even more was that the first time hadn’t taken. The old hag had drugged him again, treating him like a breeding stud and forcing him to mate with her three times before Clayton was finally conceived. After that, he never shared a bed with Verna Golding again. Just looking at that ugly face made him want to throw up.’
’He had never agreed to marry Verna Golding. Even down on his luck, he was still the young master of the Xavier family. He would rather have remained unmarried his entire life than marry some ugly freak.’
’He hadn’t wronged Verna Golding, and he hadn’t wronged Clayton Xavier. He was a victim, too! Ulysses Spann was the only one he ever wanted. He wondered how his son was doing now.’
’And Phoenix... he hadn’t gone to see her in so long.’
Having fed him the water, Verna Golding shot a threatening look at Storm, then smiled at Clayton Xavier. "Go on back to your studies. You don’t need to help here."
Clayton Xavier suppressed the strange thoughts in his mind and said, "I should take Dad to the clinic to get checked out."
"Why waste the money? The medicine your grandma prescribed is working just fine. He’s not even coughing anymore," Verna Golding refused flatly. ’The money my son worked so hard to earn can’t be wasted on a bastard like him.’
"Go on, go study."
Verna Golding urged him again. Clayton Xavier glanced at Storm Xavier and sensed his inner terror, which only made him more confused. ’What is Father afraid of?’
’Could it be Mother?’
’Or maybe Grandmother?’
’If I saw correctly just now, the word Father traced in the air should have been ’help,’ right? Help with what?’
’Is Father asking for help?’
Clayton Xavier’s head was about to burst from overthinking. No matter how he looked at it, he just couldn’t believe his mother would harm his father. And his grandmother was out of the question. Father was her biological son. Even if he was a disappointment, blood was thicker than water. How could his grandmother possibly harm her own son?
His mother was even less likely to do so. She was so kind and gentle. Even if she hated his father, she would never do something like that.
Clayton Xavier felt a wave of self-reproach, ashamed of the thoughts that had just crossed his mind. ’How could I suspect my own mother and grandmother?’
’It’s just so wrong of me!’
As for his father’s illness, if it didn’t get better after a while, he would take him to the clinic then. In any case, he should at least fulfill his basic duty as a son.
It was now mid-July. Every day, Preston Thorne was on the broadcast, calling for everyone to brace themselves. Men and women, young and old, all had to join the fray. They had to go all out for the "double rush" harvest, striving for one bumper crop after another to ensure a prosperous new year.
Just like students waiting for the college entrance exams, the villagers were counting down the days. In three or four days, the rice harvest would begin. After cutting the rice, they would plant the new seedlings—a task so arduous it felt like it would peel off three layers of their skin. Letting the rice plants bask in the sun for a few more days not only made the grains taste better but also made them denser. This was wisdom passed down from their ancestors.