"Mr. Allen, Blanchie is just talking nonsense; please don't take her million dollars seriously," Blanchie's father said, smiling nervously.
"That's right. The child will have a better life with you. She only makes a few thousand dollars a month and relies on us for support; how can she raise a good child?" Blanchie's mother added.
"Mr. Allen, after you take the child away, I hope you keep your promise and show mercy to our Davis family. In the past, we were blind to your greatness and offended you. Please forgive us, Mr. Allen," Blanchie's father continued.
Blanchie was forcibly silenced by her aunt and mother, unable to cry or shout, only tears of madness streamed down her face, filled with cold hatred.
She stared intensely at Allen, her gaze wishing to peel off his skin.
Blanchie was forcibly dragged away by the Davis family.
Once in the car, her family continued to scold her.
"I knew you were an unreliable girl; you're nothing but a burden! You want that filthy brat instead of our Davis family's assets? Are you trying to drive us to our deaths?" Blanchie's mother scolded, heartbroken.
"Exactly, Blanchie, you are being incredibly selfish. Your sister-in-law is pregnant, and your brother is still discussing marriage. We're all getting older; if the Davis family goes bankrupt, we could end up in prison! How could you be so selfish?" her aunt chimed in.
"Crying? What are you crying for? How can you still have the face to cry? Jason is already Allen's son. Why can't he take back his own son? If the child stays with him, he will inherit the Smith family fortune. That woman named Joe can't have children, and she won't mistreat the child! You just need to make a phone call to maintain your relationship with him. Blood ties can't be severed. In the future, when your son is successful, he will still call you 'Mom'!"
"Exactly! You don't have to take the child with you, and your marriage prospects will improve. You're already thirty; it's time to find someone to marry. Allen is getting married soon—"
Blanchie was trembling with anger.
Suddenly, she pulled out a fruit knife for self-defense from her bag and pressed it hard against her neck.
"Stop the car, let me out, or I'll kill myself right here!" Blanchie gritted her teeth and shouted with all her might.
She was already in a state of frenzy, and blood started to pour from her neck.
Blanchie's mother was startled and shouted, "Stop the car! Blanchie, are you crazy? This isn't just you seeking death; you're trying to kill us too! Do you want to watch us all die at Allen's hands before you're satisfied?"
Blanchie's eyes were resolute as she spoke each word slowly, "I'll count to three. Open the car door, or you can collect my body."
"One, two—"
Before she could say three, Blanchie suddenly received a heavy blow to her neck.
The fruit knife fell to the ground, and Blanchie's father picked it up and threw it away.
"Take her home, tie her up, and let her go hungry for a few days. She won't have the strength to cause trouble. By the time Allen leaves New York, it won't matter how much she screams."
With that, he pushed Blanchie toward her mother.
Everyone in the car breathed a sigh of relief.
Blanchie woke up in the middle of the night, thirsty.
Her hands and feet were bound, and there was a water bag over her head. By tilting her head back, she could reach the straw.
Looking around, Blanchie understood everything.
She had been locked up by her own family, imprisoned in the attic of her home.
A sense of despair filled her eyes.
Her mind was solely focused on Jason; at that moment, she couldn't care about anything else.
She tilted her head back and drank deeply from the water bag to moisten her throat.
Feeling a bit more energized, Blanchie struggled to retrieve a key from her belt.
Ever since she had been chased five years ago, she had been on guard. Not only did she carry a fruit knife for self-defense, but she also had a nail clipper and other items.
She slowly used the nail clipper to cut through the ropes binding her hands.
She didn't know how long it took, but her wrists were bleeding by the time she finally cut through the ropes.
Once her hands and feet were free, she opened the window, tied the rope to the window frame, and slowly climbed down from the attic on the third floor.
She had a fear of heights, but at that moment, her concern for her son overcame all her fears.
Stumbling and falling into the backyard, Blanchie was bruised all over her hands and feet.
But she gritted her teeth and climbed over the wall, directly hailing a taxi that sped toward Allen's residence.
She knew where Allen lived.
It was the villa they had rented when they were married. Later, she heard that someone had bought it, and she guessed it was Allen.
Sure enough, before she even got close to the door, she heard the heart-wrenching cries of a child from inside.
It was her son's cry.
Blanchie rushed up in a few quick steps and began pounding on the door.
The security guard was startled awake by her noise, turned on the lights, and was taken aback when he saw Blanchie, disheveled and frantic.
"B-Blanchie?" The security guard had worked here before, and although the villa had changed owners, he hadn't been replaced.
Look, even though Allen had a cold demeanor, he was actually a sentimental person.
But he was only cruel to her.
The child's cries inside the villa grew louder, wave after wave.
When she had been locked up, Blanchie hadn't cried. Even with her hands and feet injured, she hadn't shed a tear.
But at this moment, her tears flowed like pearls that had broken free from their string.
"Uncle Wilson, please open the door! My child is inside!" Blanchie cried.
Uncle Wilson hesitated for a moment but then turned and went into the security room to make a call.
After hanging up, Uncle Wilson opened the door, shaking his head and sighing, "Miss Blanchie, why must it come to this?"
At this moment, Blanchie's mind was filled with Jason's cries, and she dashed up the stairs.
Upstairs, Allen was sitting across from Jason, one with a solemn face and the other with a tear-streaked, red face.
Upon seeing Blanchie, Jason suddenly jumped off the sofa and rushed into her arms.
"Mommy, do you not want me anymore? I promise I'll behave! I won't buy Legos anymore, I-I won't eat ice cream either! Mommy, please take me home! Mommy—"
Jason had always been sensible and well-behaved; he had never cried so heart-wrenchingly since he could remember.
Blanchie felt as if her heart was shattering.
She held Jason tightly until her racing heart gradually calmed down, then spoke with a trembling voice, "Don't cry, don't cry. We're just little men; how could Mommy not want you? Mommy will always be your Mommy."
Jason's tears soaked her clothes as he quieted down a bit, softly sobbing, "Mommy, I don't like Daddy. I don't want Daddy anymore. I just want Mommy. Can you take me home?"
Blanchie wanted to say yes, but her throat felt as if it were tightly grasped by an invisible hand, and she couldn't utter a single syllable.
With tears in her eyes, she could only kneel on the floor, holding her child tightly.
The two of them sobbed silently, as if they were facing a heartbreaking separation.
Allen furrowed his handsome brow, his chiseled face taking on a serious expression.
His deep, sharp gaze fell on the faint red marks and blood on Blanchie's wrists and ankles, and his eyes darkened further.
"You can stay and take care of him for one night. He needs to sleep," Allen said as he stood up, his tall figure imposing and commanding. "If you want him to suffer less, I hope you help him accept his identity quickly. He belongs to the Smith family."
What's so great about the Smith name? Just because you're a Smith, you think you're better than everyone else? You all act like royalty!
Blanchie wanted to curse him out.
However, the situation was dire; if she pushed Allen too hard, he might throw her out in the middle of the night.
At this moment, nothing was more important than her child.
Blanchie nodded and asked in a hoarse voice, "Which room does he sleep in?"
Allen pointed to a room casually.
Blanchie carried the child into the room and turned on the light.
Thinking that Jason hadn't eaten anything yet, Allen wanted to go in and say something, but when he turned the doorknob, he found the door locked.
His already unpleasing expression darkened further.
Who was he guarding against? Did he not realize whose territory this was?