Transmigrated as the Villain Boss's Precious Darling-Chapter 113: You Can’t Trust Hearsay

"Your Aunt Phoebe is just a bit fierce, but she’s actually a very good person." A smile spread across Verna Golding’s plain, simple face, which was covered in dense freckles.

Back when she was a girl, she had earned the nickname ’Freckle Face.’ Though it wasn’t meant maliciously, once the name spread, most of the young men who came to propose marriage to Verna Golding were a sorry lot; few were of good character.

When Old Mrs. Xavier came to their home to propose the match, Verna Golding’s parents were hesitant, but Verna herself accepted.

She had seen her husband, Storm Xavier, before. He was handsome and elegant, a man famous throughout the region for his good looks. If it weren’t for his family’s poor class background, a rich young master like him would have been completely out of her league. Rather than marry one of those dregs, Verna Golding would much rather marry Storm Xavier.

What made her even happier was that her son, Clayton Xavier, took after his father, not her. He had grown to be even more handsome than his father and was also very filial. Even though her husband didn’t care for her, Verna Golding didn’t find her life bitter. Her son was all she needed.

Although Verna Golding was quiet and seemed slow-witted, she was sharp as a tack on the inside. She knew exactly who was genuine and who was putting on a false front.

Everyone called Phoebe Huxley a shrew, but Verna Golding remembered otherwise. When the whole village called her ’Freckle Face,’ Phoebe Huxley was the only one who used her real name. She even cussed out the people who used the nickname.

Besides, her mother-in-law had helped so many people, but very few had ever repaid the kindness. It was a victory if they simply didn’t kick the family while they were down. Phoebe Huxley’s father, however, was one of the grateful ones.

Clayton Xavier nodded. After having dinner at the Thorne family’s home that evening, he too sensed that they were nothing like the rumors said. ’People just repeat what they hear,’ he thought. ’You can’t trust rumors.’

"Mom, what about Phoenix Golding? What kind of person is she?"

Verna Golding’s expression changed, her smile becoming strained. "Why are you suddenly asking about her? In any case, have as little to do with her family as possible. Listen to me."

She said no more, but Clayton Xavier could sense his mother’s deep loathing for Phoenix Golding, as if there was bad blood between them.

With his father, Storm Xavier, not at home, Verna Golding was busy the moment she returned. She had an endless list of chores each day, managing basically everything inside and outside the house. Her husband, who had been spoiled since childhood, earned even fewer work points than she did.

"Go see your grandma. She has something to talk to you about."

Verna Golding stopped Clayton Xavier as he was about to help. ’Her son is destined for great things,’ she thought. ’He can’t be doing menial chores like this.’

Clayton Xavier had no choice but to go to the second floor to find his grandmother. All that remained of the Xavier family’s property was a two-story house with two courtyards; the other buildings had been divided up and given away. Old Mrs. Xavier rarely went out, spending most of her days on the second floor chanting scriptures or listening to the radio.

"Did you get the books?" Old Mrs. Xavier asked. She wore her salt-and-pepper hair in a neat bun, without a single strand out of place. She was dressed in a navy blue, front-fastening traditional jacket, a string of prayer beads draped over her hand. Her feet, which had been bound and later unbound, were smaller than normal but larger than the ideal ’three-inch golden lotuses.’

"I got them, Grandma."

Clayton Xavier stood respectfully before his grandmother.

"Study hard," the old woman said in a slow, deliberate voice. "Once you’ve mastered the high school material, the university entrance exams should be an option for you again."

She listened to the radio every day, gauging the shifting political winds. She suspected the country was on the verge of a major change. ’Class background can’t hold my grandson down forever,’ she thought. ’Even in ancient times, they found ways to select talented people regardless of their background. How can this new society remain so stubbornly fixated on the past?’

"Is that really true, Grandma?" Clayton Xavier asked, his face filled with joyful surprise.

"It’s highly likely," the old woman advised earnestly. "You must work even harder, so that when the opportunity arises, you can seize it more firmly than anyone else."

Clayton Xavier nodded emphatically. He would definitely seize any opportunity that came his way.

Old Mrs. Xavier then asked about his trip into town. Upon learning that he’d had dinner with the Thorne family, she asked for his impression of them.