Chapter 1830:


    “You’re more vile than any beast! Even the fiercest creatures guard their young, and he is your own flesh and blood!” Etta was so furious she nearly struck her husband.


    Even now, he still wouldn’t give her real son a single chance to survive. That child carried his blood as well. How could he be so monstrously heartless?


    “You’d better think this through. If we live, your son lives,” her husband jeered, certain the threat was their golden pass to stay alive.


    Etta couldn’t bring herself to strike him — terrified that doing so would erase any slim chance of finding her child — yet she couldn’t bring herself to beg the Jones family to release them either. They had tried to harm Hurley. How could she possibly stand before the Jones family and plead for their enemies’ lives?


    Trapped in a brutal storm of doubt, Etta could only weep as she dropped to her knees before the Jones family, pressing her forehead to the floor in sheer desperation.


    The servants and guards assumed she was pleading for the father’s and son’s lives, and a strange mix of pity and contempt passed over their faces. The moment they saw her kneel, the father and son lit up with smug delight, convinced they finally had a chance to stay alive.


    Then Etta spoke.


    “Mrs. Jones,” she cried, her voice breaking as she begged Florrie, “after all the years I’ve served you and your household with loyalty, I ask only one thing — please use your influence to help me find my poor child. I am not asking you to spare these men. I only pray they meet the most wretched and agonizing end imaginable. Even if I never find my child, at least I will know he has been avenged.”


    Her words wiped the smiles clean off the father’s and son’s faces.


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    Wasn’t she supposed to beg for their lives? Why was she wishing suffering upon them instead?


    “What kind of nonsense are you babbling? Are you trying to get your own son killed?”


    “Dad, why even bother talking to her? If we go down, her kid goes down in agony too.”


    They tried to cow Etta with their threats, forgetting entirely what kind of woman she was — someone who understood both gratitude and retribution. Even if her own son had wronged someone in the Jones family, she would still stand behind whatever punishment was deemed just. Wrong was wrong. She would never pretend not to see a crime simply because it was her son who hadmitted it. Her heart would shatter, but she would never beg mercy for someone guilty of so grave an offense.


    Etta fixed them with an icy stare. “Don’t think you can use me as your way out. If you want a swift end, you had better tell me where my son is — I might at least see that you’reid to rest with some dignity. But if you keep digging your heels in, and my boy is truly gone, you won’t just be tortured to death. I’ll make sure there is nothing left of your bodies worth burying.” She forced each word past clenched teeth, her hatred toward themplete and unyielding.


    If she’d had the chance, she would have torn them apart with her bare hands to avenge her helpless child.


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