Chapter 44

"Is Michael Stone not home?" Mrs. Wilson stood at the gate with her hands on her hips, her beady eyes glinting with malice. Behind her trailed two scrawny girls—her granddaughters.

Emily Johnson had barely opened the door before a spray of spittle hit her face.

"You little wretch! How dare you lay hands on my son!" Mrs. Wilson shrieked, her grating voice loud enough to carry halfway through the village.

Emily eyed the wrinkled old woman coldly. Dressed in patched-up coarse fabric and worn straw sandals, she looked like a relic from another era.

"Well, isn't this the pot calling the kettle black?" Emily crossed her arms, her voice clear and sharp. "Your son was caught sneaking over our wall in the middle of the night, and you have the nerve to come here making a scene?"

Mrs. Wilson's face turned ashen. Back in her youth, she had stolen from the collective farm—something the older villagers still remembered.

"Lies!" Mrs. Wilson suddenly lunged, claws outstretched.

Emily sidestepped effortlessly.

"Oof!" The old woman stumbled forward and face-planted, her forehead nearly smacking the doorstep.

"Grandma!" The two girls rushed to help, only to be slapped away.

"Useless brats! Couldn’t even catch me!"

Emily took a step back, frowning. The girls were stick-thin, their hair brittle and tangled, with lice visibly crawling through the strands.

A crowd had gathered, murmurs rising among the villagers.

"Is Mrs. Wilson here to pick a fight?"

"Her son got caught stealing, and she still dares to make trouble?"

"Heard Sophia Green was questioned too..."

Mrs. Wilson scrambled up, shooting Emily a venomous glare. "You’ll pay for this, you little witch!"

Emily smirked and slammed the door shut. Through the wood, she could still hear the old woman’s curses and the muffled sobs of the two girls.

This was only the beginning.