"You vile little creature! How dare you steal the ragweed my grandson worked so hard to mow! People will remember the day this old woman beat you to death!"
A piercing voice shattered the stillness of the early morning in Willowvale.
In front of a crumbling, thatched-roof cottage, a bitter-faced old woman shoved young Morgan Hunter to the ground. She made a desperate grab for the basket slung over Morgan's back.
Morgan, wincing in pain from the fall, clung to the basket's straps with tear-filled eyes. "Th-that’s not true... I mowed these myself. I didn’t steal anything..." she whimpered, her voice barely audible, trembling with fear.
"Mowed them yourself, did you? Who was there to see it?" The old woman snarled, her words dripping with cruelty. "I saw you take them from my grandson! You worthless brat, how dare you think you can compete with my precious boy? Let go, or I swear, I’ll beat you to death right here!"
"Yeah, she stole them! Hehe!" chimed in her grandson, a plump boy of about seven or eight, his lazy demeanor showing through his smug grin. He relished in the opportunity to bully Morgan, a favorite pastime.
Their shouting had drawn the attention of several villagers. Upon seeing the old woman, their faces twisted with disgust.
"Blanche Torres, if you were merely harassing Morgan, who’s just a poor orphan, that would already be bad enough. But now you’re actually trying to steal the ragweed she mowed herself? She’s only four or five! Where’s your sense of decency?" One of the villagers exclaimed, his voice thick with disapproval.
"Exactly! Aren’t you afraid her grandmother’s spirit won’t rest peacefully and will come back to haunt you in the dead of night?" Another villager added, his words sharp.
"Get lost, all of you! Worthless, the lot of you!" Blanche spat venomously, her expression contorted in rage. "Stop trying to scare me with ghosts and nonsense! That old hag’s been rotting in the ground for ages. This wretched girl is the reason she’s dead in the first place! If that foolish woman hadn’t insisted on taking her in, she’d still be alive. Serves her right!"
"Don’t you dare say such things about my grandmother!"
Morgan’s voice trembled with fury, tears brimming in her eyes. Her anger burned so fiercely in her gaze that it made the onlookers shiver.
"You..." Blanche hesitated for a moment, startled by the fire in Morgan’s eyes. Then, regaining her composure, she sneered cruelly. "Oh, so you think you can stand up to me now, do you? Who do you think you are? You’re nothing but an orphaned child, without anyone to look after you. You don’t even know if you’ll survive another day, and yet you challenge me? How ridiculous!"
"This ragweed belongs to me now! Since you stole from me today, you’ll have to cut me a basketful every day as compensation! And those chickens and ducks you’ve been raising? You’ll hand them over too. Otherwise, don’t blame me for what happens next!" Blanche declared, her eyes gleaming with malicious intent as she lunged to seize the basket once more. Her grandson eagerly joined in, puffing out his chest. "Give it here! Hmph!"
Outnumbered and utterly powerless, Morgan could only glare at them, defiance burning in her tear-filled eyes. "No! I won’t give it to you!" she cried, her voice small but resolute.
"Blanche, if you keep tormenting her like this, I’ll report you to the village branch secretary!" a villager shouted, stepping forward in Morgan’s defense.
"What good will that do?" Blanche sneered, her chest puffed out in defiance. "The secretary might scold me once, but he can’t control me forever!" She raised her voice, triumph thick in her tone. "My house is the closest to this miserable thatched cottage she lives in. As long as she stays here, she’ll follow my commands! And why, you ask? Because she’s all alone. A helpless orphan!"
"Who dares say she's an orphan?"
A cold voice, tinged with severity, resonated sharply through the crowd. It immediately captured everyone's attention. The villagers instinctively turned toward the source of the sound. The village branch secretary and a number of well-dressed people quickly approached.
Leading the group was an elegantly attired man and woman, their bearing sophisticated and dignified. Their expressions betrayed a deep agitation, as though they were struggling to maintain composure.
It was clear that the cool remark had come from the handsome man, whose commanding presence caused the villagers to instinctively step aside, creating a path for him.
As he approached, his posture stiffened upon laying eyes on Morgan. Each step he took seemed heavier than the last.
"Are you... Morgan?" he asked, crouching down in front of the small girl, his voice trembling. Caution laced his words, as if he feared the answer.
The elegant woman beside him moved closer as well. Her eyes were filled with emotion. She scanned Morgan's face, and tears began to spill uncontrollably.
Morgan’s tear-streaked face, tilted upward as she gazed at the man. Her eyes clearer and more vivid after crying, yet filled with confusion and uncertainty.
At that moment, the village head hurried over, his voice firm, "Ryan, this is Morgan!"
The instant the village head spoke, the woman could no longer hold back her tears. She wrapped Morgan in her arms, her voice cracking with emotion, "Morgan, my precious daughter... Mom has finally found you!" The man's eyes reddened as he gazed tenderly at the girl. With a trembling smile, he spoke softly, "Morgan, I am your father, and this is your mother..." As the words left his mouth, a stunned silence fell over the gathered crowd. The villagers were completely bewildered.
Blanche, who had been brazen just moments earlier, stood frozen in shock. Her mind raced in disbelief, struggling to comprehend how the orphan she had relentlessly bullied could have suddenly found parents. And not just any parents—these two appeared to be wealthy and influential!
Her mind quickly devised a new plan, and she wasted no time voicing her suspicions. "I've never heard that Morgan has parents. Are you two human traffickers?" she accused, her voice thick with false indignation. Blanche's words sparked unease among the villagers. A few exchanged wary glances, uncertainty spreading through the crowd.
The village head’s face immediately darkened, his voice boiling with anger. "Blanche, you foul-mouthed woman! What nonsense are you spouting now? These are Morgan’s real, biological parents. Do you think I would ever allow harm to come to her?"
Upon hearing the village head’s sharp rebuke, the villagers' tension eased. Though the couple remained strangers, the village head had always been a man of integrity.
The elegant woman, still clutching Morgan close, loosened her hold slightly and gently stroked the child’s hair. Her voice trembled with emotion. "Morgan, don’t be frightened. Mom isn’t a bad person." She turned her tear-filled eyes toward her husband, as if seeking reassurance.
Ryan gave a solemn nod. At his gesture, a black-suited bodyguard stepped forward, carrying a set of documents in hand.
"This is our daughter’s birth certificate, along with her childhood photos. Morgan has been missing for three long years, and although she looks different now, you can still see the resemblance." the man said, showing the contents of the clear file.
Inside were official documents and pictures of a little girl around two years old, dressed in a pink princess gown, irresistibly cute. The child in the photos looked healthy and full of life. Meanwhile, Morgan now looked thin and frail, which seemed like a distant reflection of her former self. Yet, upon close inspection, her facial features undeniably matched.
The village head added, "Morgan has been living in our village for nearly three years, which fits the timeline. As for confirming her parentage, the police station is involved, and they will arrange a DNA test. If the results show that Morgan is not Mr. and Mrs. Cooper’s child, the police will ensure she is safely returned to us."
Hearing the mention of the police station reassured the villagers, easing their concerns. Meanwhile, Morgan, who had been silently observing the graceful woman, finally gathered the courage to ask, "Are you really... my mother?"
