He burst into a wail, throwing himself onto old Mrs. Blackwell's legs. "Great-grandmother, please help me. I just want my real mom, sob..."
Old Mrs. Blackwell stroked his head but didn't grant his wish. "I'm sorry, I can't do that."
"Waaaah—" Oliver cried even more heartbrokenly.
Having recovered, Mr. Blackwell felt a pang of pity. "Mom, Oliver's only six, he's just a child..."
Old Mrs. Blackwell shot him a look. "He brought this on himself. No one forced him."
Her tone sharpened. "And don't you start playing the good guy. I haven't even gotten to how you two have spoiled him."
Mr. Blackwell didn't dare say another word.
Mrs. Blackwell wanted to say something, but thinking of her mother-in-law's temper, she held her tongue.
How strange.
Why did Oliver suddenly care so much about Isabel?
Was it just because she was dead?
What a brilliant move that was.
Making both the father and son who never cared for her suddenly care so much.
Too bad she wasn't really dead.
Although Mrs. Blackwell detested Isabel, that hatred meant she also understood her.
The moment Catherine returned from abroad, she could tell from the photos.
Isabel wasn't dead.
She had just pulled a disappearing act.
Even if she didn't understand her.
She trusted her son and grandson.
There was no way those two would mistake her.
It was just that the old matriarch was too biased towards Isabel.
Her grandson was just a child who now knew his mistake. What more did she want?


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