Chapter 1834:


    Christina watched the two of them bicker and began pping her hands softly, a smile ying at her lips. “You two really are such a devoted father and son,” she remarked.


    “You evil woman! You’re a monster!” Etta’s husband roared, his eyes burning with hatred.


    Etta snapped back at him. “How dare you speak to Miss Jones that way! It seems you haven’t been punished nearly enough.” She lunged forward and struck him hard, several times in session. The sharp sounds filled the room, and another tooth ttered to the floor.


    Christina stepped over and gently closed her hand around Etta’s wrist, bringing her to a stop.


    Etta turned around. “Miss Jones — are you telling me to stop?”


    Christina gave a smallugh. “Not at all. I haven’t called the police yet, so feel free to take out everything you’ve been carrying.” She understood that Etta needed this — a way to drain the grief and fury she had been holding inside for so long.


    What Etta didn’t know was that Christina had known the whereabouts of her real son all along. She had kept it to herself deliberately, wanting Etta to release her pain first.


    “Thank you, Miss Jones,” Etta said, her voice thick with relief and the threat of tears.


    “Do you feel a little better now, Etta?” Christina asked.


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    “Yes,” Etta answered, her eyes red and glistening. “I feel much better.”


    “Good — because I have a surprise for you. Brace yourself. It’s a ratherrge one,” Christina said, a warm, yful smile crossing her face.


    Etta managed a small smile and wiped her tears away. “Don’t worry about me, Miss Jones. I can handle it. I’m curious to see what you have.” She assumed Christina had arranged some kind of gift to lift her spirits.


    Christina drew out her phone and made a brief call. “You cane in now,” she said quietly.


    Etta stood perfectly still, a flicker of confusion passing over her face. The surprise, it seemed, was a person.


    Christina reached out and cupped Etta’s face gently in both hands, turning her head toward the entrance of the room.


    “Etta, look at who just arrived,” she said softly, guiding her gaze to the doorway just as a man stepped inside.


    He appeared to be slightly older than the impostor son Etta had spent years raising. He looked as though life had not been kind to him — the hardship he had endured was written inly across his tired face.


    A wave of grief crashed over Etta, and the tears came before she could stop them.


    “Miss Jones…” she whispered, staring at the man with wide, trembling eyes. “Is he… is this really my boy?”


    “Yes, it’s him,” Christina said with a firm nod. “I tracked him down and had a DNA test done for both of you. The results confirm he is your real son.” She gave Etta a gentle nudge forward. “Go ahead, Etta. Go give him a hug.”


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