Chapter 733 A Mother’s Blind Devotion

Margaret seemed to remember how, once Paul grew up, he learned to weigh benefits and tasted the privileges that came with being the Powell heir.

Especially with Wyatt’s growing influence, Paul reveled in the confidence power gave him, and even more in the feeling of lording it over Wyatt with borrowed strength.

He began flattering Linda. For the sake of attending her banquets, he could forget his own mother’s birthday.

That year, Margaret sat before a cake the whole night, waiting for her son, waiting for her husband. Neither showed up.

Only Yunice brought her a gift and kept her company through that birthday.

Margaret wiped the corner of her eye with her hand and forced a smile. “But Yunice… no matter how thoughtful you are, you’re not my real daughter. You can’t replace Paul. Even with you by my side, I still felt empty inside. Yes, after the divorce, I stopped treating Jensen as family and lived my own life. But all of that was based on the knowledge that Paul, somewhere else in the world, was living in comfort. Now, in your hands, he may not even have the dignity of being human. How could a mother possibly bear that thought?”

Yunice didn’t argue. She knew Margaret was speaking the truth.

Life was complicated. She herself hated everyone in the Saunders family and wanted them to live in suffering, yet she still couldn’t bring herself to wish them dead.

She asked softly, “What about Jensen? Do you know where he is?”

If a mother could go this far for her son, then what of the father?

Margaret gave a bitter laugh. “I know what you want to say. Before the Powell family collapsed, Jensen fled with money, running abroad with Linda to live as a pair of lovebirds. They don’t care about the Powells, don’t care about our son–only their own pleasures. You want to tell me that men are heartless, that even if I save Paul this time, he won’t be grateful to me. But how could a mother weigh debts with her own child?”

Yunice rested her head on the pillow, her tone wistful. “I envy Paul. In my family, the only one who got that kind of love from my mother was Elsie.”

Margaret drew in a long breath. “Enough of that. I’ll ask you plainly–tell me the truth. Is Paul still alive?”

Yunice’s eyes held sincerity. “I don’t know. The last time Paul and Nora were hiding with the Johnson family, the police surrounded them. They only caught Nora–Paul vanished into thin air. Since then, we’ve heard nothing. I even quarreled with Wyatt over it. I thought he had deliberately let Paul go, because he feared that once I got my revenge, I’d leave him.”

Margaret fixed Yunice with a steady gaze, her eyes so calm they seemed to pierce through her.

“Yunice, so you do know how to lie… I raised you all these years and never saw that side of you. At the Johnson family’s, I was the one who rescued Paul. I hid him in a cave. Later, when he had Nora pose as you to lure Wyatt in, I knew all about it. I know you people took Paul. He’s in your hands.”

Yunice wasn’t surprised. If Margaret could kidnap her for Paul’s sake, then all those other actions weren’t shocking either.

She asked, “Since you already saved Paul, why didn’t you urge him to flee the country quietly? Did you really think using Nora to attack Wyatt was the right choice? If no one had provoked him, no one would have gone after him. He brought death on himself.”

Margaret replied, “I couldn’t dissuade him. There was nothing I could do.”

Yunice turned her head away, unwilling to look at her. “I never thought you could be so blind.”

Margaret said, “When you have someone you love more than your own life, you’ll be just as blind.”

Yunice ignored her.

Margaret glanced at the bowl of food she had brought and said, “Eat. I don’t want to mistreat you, but you’d better hope Wyatt gets here soon.”

Otherwise, things would not end well for her.

When the door closed, Yunice struggled against her bindings, but it was useless.

Margaret had a sharp mind, but more than that, she was steady. A person with such firm resolve was the hardest to deal with.

Yunice turned her head toward the window, toward the sky hidden behind the curtains.

The feeling was so familiar.

She had nearly forgotten.

Years ago, when she had first been thrown into the asylum, she had fought every day to escape.

Just like now, they had strapped her to the bed with restraints.

Back then, she lay there staring at the ceiling, staring out the window.

Back then, no one came to save her. Not even Margaret.