Chapter 293
293:
Mack and Liza had turned desperate. When news spread of a renowned doctor, they scoured the earth in hopes of finding King, praying for a cure to save the daughter they truly loved. But that was an impossible task. They had no idea that the legendary King—their last desperate hope—was none other than Christina, the daughter they had cast away without a second thought.
Memories of her days in the training camp as a child surged through Christina’s mind like a rising tide, vivid and unrelenting. She could still feel the sting of every cruel moment. That so-called training camp had been a graveyard in disguise. Even seasoned adults had vanished into the wilderness, their bodies never found.
Lost in those dark recollections, Christina stood frozen, her expression distant and unreadable.
Yvonne, of course, misread the stillness. With a wheezing breath, she staggered a step closer, her pale face flushed from the strain. Whenever emotions ran high, her body betrayed her—anger brought on coughing fits that left her drained and trembling.
“How dare you ignore me!” she snapped, raising her hand to strike.
But Christina was no longer the girl who flinched. She caught Yvonne’s wrist mid-air, her grip steady and unyielding. Once, she’d bowed her head. Once, she’d knelt, crawled, obeyed—all in the foolish hope that the Jones family might love her back. But that hope had long since rotted away. The day she was exiled at ten, left to survive a place meant to break her, she had shed her former self like old skin.
Yvonne was stunned. When had Christina learned to resist? The Christina she remembered was always meek, practically a doormat. As a child, she used to order Christina around like a servant, forcing her to kneel and crawl as if she were born beneath her. Christina had endured it all, not daring to complain. But this woman before her now? Christina had changed—bold and unbending like cold steel.
Yvonne gaped at Christina, frozen for a split second before anger jolted her back. “Let go of my hand!” she snapped, yanking against Christina’s unmoving grip.
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But Christina ignored Yvonne’s request—her fingers stayed locked around Yvonne’s wrist, calm and unyielding.
“I said, let go!” Yvonne’s voice pitched up, frustration boiling over until it rattled her chest in a fit of harsh coughing.
Christina didn’t so much as flinch. Her gaze stayed fixed on Yvonne, silent and impassive, her grip refusing to budge.
“What, did you forget how to talk, Christina?” Yvonne spat out a scornful laugh, bitterness curling her lips. “Is that it? Ever since you clawed your way into the Dawson family, you’ve lost your tongue? I guess that’s what happens when you’re nothing but the Jones family’s adopted stray. Landing in the Dawson house—that’s the peak for someone like you, isn’t it? Brendon must’ve been out of his mind to marry you. What did he ever stand to gain from a nobody like you?”
Christina’s stare cut through Yvonne like ice, her dark eyes glinting with a glacial chill that made the air feel heavier.
“W-why are you looking at me like that?” Yvonne stammered, shrinking back a half step, a prickle of dread running down her spine. She’d never seen Christina this menacing before—not even close.
In Yvonne’s collection, Christina had spent years overseas in rigorous training, barely keeping in touch. She had only returned alone to inform them that she was about to marry Brendon. At that time, Brendon hadn’t even bothered to accompany Christina home or pay the Jones family a formal visit. Christina had brushed it off, claiming he was swamped with work, but the Jones family had whispered behind closed doors that the Dawson family simply didn’t like her.
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