Chapter 43

In the bamboo grove, Emily Johnson bent down to gather fallen bamboo husks. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

"Mom, look how many I've collected!" Tommy held up a big pile of husks, his little face beaming with pride.

Emily smiled and ruffled his hair. "Great job! I'm going to check the hillside. You two stay here and gather firewood, okay?"

David nodded dutifully. "Be careful, Mom."

Carrying a bamboo basket, Emily headed toward the slope. After making sure no one was around, she quickly retrieved fresh ground cherries, blueberries, and cherry tomatoes from her space, filling the basket to the brim.

"Auntie! Auntie!"

A boy with a small braid came running, panting. "Peter Wilson's mom brought people to your house! They're kicking your door!"

Emily's eyes turned cold. "Kicking my door?"

"Yeah! They look really mean!"

Emily grabbed a handful of fruit and handed it to the boy. "Thanks for telling me."

The boy clutched the treats, eyes shining. "Thank you, Auntie!"

"Mom..." David tugged nervously at her sleeve.

She patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry. If I could handle Peter, do you really think I'm scared of his mother?"

Back at home, Emily washed the fruit for the boys.

"So sweet!" Tommy squinted happily, looking like a content little kitten.

"Don't eat too much. Save room for dinner." Emily chuckled and pinched his cheek.

In the kitchen, the rich aroma of braised pork filled the air. David tended the fire while Tommy played with the fruit, counting them one by one.

"Open the door, you little witch!" A shrill voice suddenly rang out from the yard.

David flinched, dropping the firewood.

"Mom..." Tommy shrank back fearfully.

Emily covered the pot and added a ladle of water. "David, watch the fire. I'll deal with them."

"I'll get Grandma to help!" David said urgently.

She shook her head. "No need. Stay here."

Outside the gate, Margaret Wilson stood with her hands on her hips, spewing curses. Behind her were two burly women, their faces twisted in hostility.

"Wretched woman! How dare you lay a hand on my son!"

Emily yanked the gate open.

Margaret stumbled forward, nearly falling inside.

"Well, if it isn't Mrs. Wilson?" Emily leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "What brings you here so early—putting on a show for me?"

Margaret's face turned purple with rage. "You—you little—!"

"Mrs. Wilson," Emily said coolly, smoothing her sleeves, "your son got what he deserved for stealing. If you'd like to join him at the police station, feel free to make a scene."

The two women behind Margaret instinctively took a step back.

Margaret trembled with fury. "You—you—!"

"Me what?" Emily suddenly snapped, her voice sharp. "Kick my door again, and I'll call the police. Then the whole village can see how the Wilsons raised a thief!"

Stunned by her ferocity, Margaret was momentarily speechless.

"Get out!" Emily slammed the door shut.

Outside, Margaret's face cycled through shades of red and white before she finally slunk away in defeat.

In the kitchen, David and Tommy peeked through the door crack, wide-eyed.

"Mom is amazing..." Tommy whispered.

David nodded vigorously, admiration shining in his eyes.