?Chapter 875:<fn9883> This text is hosted at find?novel</fn9883>


    Days slipped away in the blink of an eye.


    One afternoon, Christina stirred from a light nap and settled into her room with a book. Without warning, her phone began to ring.


    She frowned when she saw an unfamiliar number shing across the screen. Could it be Terrence again?


    She hesitated, debating whether to answer. Atst, she picked up. But instead of the voice she expected, a frantic cry exploded through the line.


    “Christina, it’s Bethel—she’s sick! She wants to see you!” Joselyn’s voice rang out, sharp with calcted urgency and tension.


    Christina froze for a beat,pletely caught off guard—never in a million years had she expected Joselyn, of all people, to call her.


    She snapped out of it and sprang into motion, yanking open the door. But just as she was about to rush out, a thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. Even if Bethel were really unwell, Joselyn would never be the one to make this call. Joselyn had always wanted Brendon to end up with a blue-blooded heiress from an elite family. She looked down on Christina—scorned her, really—forcking the proper pedigree. In her eyes, Christina was nothing more than an adopted daughter, rejected by the Jones family and never truly epted.


    Joselyn held this unshakable belief that her only son was some rare gem, a prodigy, far too good for most. To her, Christina was worth about as much as a housemaid in the Dawson family—beneath her notice.


    Fully aware of Joselyn’s disdain toward her, Christina sensed something was wrong behind the sudden call from Joselyn.


    “You’re lying, Bethel’s not sick,” Christina said, steadying herself as her voice dropped into an icy calm.


    Joselyn’s heart gave a sudden jolt—Christina’s quick grasp of the real situation had thrown her off. But she masked it quickly, feigning irritation. “Why would I make that up? You think I want to talk to you? Bethel’s insisting on seeing you. If it weren’t for that, I’d never have made this call.”


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    “Fine. I’ll call her myself,” Christina muttered, already moving to hang up.


    “You don’t need to call—she didn’t bring her phone,” Joselyn added quickly, almost too quickly.


    Christina didn’t buy her story, not entirely. But at the same time, she couldn’t shake her concern for Bethel. After wavering for a few seconds, she asked, “Where are you? The hospital?”


    “No, we’re right outside your house. Hurry up and let us in. Bethel came all the way here to see you—even though she’s sick. Do you really have the heart to make her wait out here?” Joselyn’s voice turned pointed, clearly displeased.


    Christina frowned. “I’ll be right there.”


    She ended the call and left her room in a rush. It was hard to tell over the phone whether Joselyn had been lying, so she needed to check with her own eyes. If Bethel wasn’t actually here, she would turn around and head back to her room.


    “Mom, how did it go? Did Christina fall for it? Is she going to let us in?” Katie whispered nervously. If it hadn’t been for the scheme to steal that painting, they never would have gone to such ridiculous lengths ande here.


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