Her fifth daughter died, so she deleted his bloodline. novel Chapter 82

Chapter 5

Jacob froze for a second, then violently shook off my grasp.

“Have you completely lost it, Sophia?! Don’t you dare talk about my mother that way,

take your grief out on someone else!”

“Maybe if your mother hadn’t shown up uninvited during the holidays, this wouldn’t have happened! An allergy? Sounds like her own problem.”

“Did she really think marrying you off to a Pearson gave her family an all-access pass?”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I slapped him across the face.

“What have I ever taken from you, Jacob? What have my parents ever asked you for?!”

“In all these years, have we ever come to you for anything? Was it really necessary to treat us like we were here to steal from you?”

“You have money, fine. But don’t you dare act like my family is as corrupt as you seem to think we are. We’ve never wanted a penny that wasn’t ours.”

Jacob was stunned by my slap, momentarily speechless.

As he began to process his rage, I didn’t give him the chance. Instead, I dragged him to the door of the treatment room and pointed furiously at the body on the bed.

“Jacob Pearson! Open your eyes and look! Look who’s lying there?!”

“The woman you just said ‘her own probblem, did you ever stop to remember she’s your mother? The one who’s allergic to shellfish?”

“That’s the woman who raised you. Who called in every favor she had to build you this hospital because you wanted to be a doctor!”

Jacob was about to retort, but then his peripheral vision caught the glimpse of a wrist beneath the white sheet.

On her wrist lay a simple but elegant silver bracelet.

It was his parents’ token of love, given by his father to his mother on their wedding day.

Chapter 5

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He couldn’t possibly mistake it.

Suddenly, the blood in his veins seemed to freeze.

He stared at the body in disbelief, taking one slow, heavy step after another. He reached

out and pulled back the sheet.

When he saw who was lying beneath, his legs buckled. He collapsed to his knees on the

floor.

His mother’s face was cyanotic, her lips a dark, bruised purple, the unmistakable signs

of death by allergic shock.

The red wool coat she wore was the very one Jacob had specially mailed overseas just

last week.

“It can’t be Mom…” he murmured, voice trembling. “Mom’s supposed to be abroad…”

Just then, Victoria hurried into the room from her ward.

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