When She Rose From the Ashes

Chapter 103 Poisoned Bonds

Chapter 103 Poisoned Bonds

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When Sharon spoke, her tone was lofty and cold, as if Mrs. Summers weren’t her mother at all but merely a pitiful woman clinging to her for survival.

Mrs. Summers had never suffered such humiliation before.

And worst of all, it came from her own daughter. Rage boiled in her chest, her jaw tight enough to shatter her teeth.

“As long as you still care about the Summers family, that’s enough. Hurry back now. Didn’t Jensen get a doctor for you? While you have the chance, act spoiled a little and get him to give you money quickly. That’s what matters.”

“I know.”

Sharon rose and left. As she crossed the courtyard, she ran into the family’s housekeeper, Jenn.

“Jenn.”

Jenn quickly smiled when she saw her. “You’re back? I should thank you again–for hiring that specialist for my grandson the other day. Without you, he wouldn’t have survived. From now on, my life belongs to you.”

Sharon waved it off, then glanced toward the main hall and lowered her voice. “My mom’s been a bit too active lately. Get some medicine and mix it into her food–something to make her rest more.”

Jenn froze, paling. “You… you want me to drug Madam?”

“What are you thinking? That’s my mother. How could I harm her? I just mean something with a little sedative, so she can sleep more and recover.”

Jenn exhaled in relief. “Ah, sleeping medicine.”

Don’t let her know. She’s been restless over the company matters, and if this

on the mask of a dutiful

“I understand. You’re so filial–if

my dad

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Chapter 103 Poisoned Bonds

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flashed across Sharon’s face. Jenn was far too

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medicine yourself. If my mom finds out, she’ll fire you. I’ll handle it and send it to you later. Then you just put it in her food. Even if she suspects, it won’t fall

course, of

immediately dialed a number she

tasteless, impossible to detect. I know you can find it. Whatever

hung up, lips curling

Old hag.

her out for

if she was her

now, she’d clawed out for herself. The Summers family had robbed her of eighteen years,

Dream on.

hag wasn’t wrong. Before she died, Sharon

would

the car speeding away from the

Baron received a

someone’s looking to buy slow–acting, colorless,

cross–checking data when the call came. His voice was lazy. “Who’s

“Sharon.”

His eyes darkened. “Who?”

“Jensen’s wife, Sharon.”