The drunk sobered up instantly, frantically fixing the mound while muttering apologies with a face full of guilt.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."
Grayson looked confused and asked him what that was.
The drunkard gave a smile. "It's her grave."
Grayson shot a cold glance over and sure enough, saw a crude plaque with crookedly carved words.
"Mila Nelson's Grave."
The drunkard carefully propped the crooked tombstone back up like it was a treasure, repeatedly muttering apologies.
"Delusional."
Grayson shoved the drunkard away coldly, let out a sneer, and kicked the tombstone in half.
"Three years and Mila's still full of tricks. She even staged this dramatic sob story."
He not only broke the tombstone, but also ordered his bodyguards to grab shovels and flatten the small mound.
"I'd like to see how long Mila can keep up this act!"
The drunkard, seeing the tombstone he had painstakingly set up get destroyed again, screamed in panic.
"I told you she's dead! Why won't you leave her alone?"
"Ms. Nelson was such a good person, how could she suffer like this..."
Grayson looked at him with disgust but didn't bother responding anymore.
He spoke coldly, "Mila, I know you can hear me.
"I order you to come out within three days and obediently donate your kidney to Chloe. If you do, I'll end your punishment and let you return home.
"Otherwise, if you keep playing games and hiding, you'll never see your son again for the rest of your life!"
After finishing his statement, Grayson turned decisively and left.
Before leaving, he ordered his bodyguards to cripple the drunkard's leg.
"You beggar, this is the price for crossing Mr. Allen!"
I hovered nearby, wanting to cry but unable to shed any tears.
My son, Jayden, I haven't seen him in three years.
Grayson knows my son is my weakness, so he's using him to threaten me. If I were still alive, I'd have rushed out without hesitation.
But I'm already dead.
After Grayson and his men left, the isolated villa returned to its usual desolate and lonely state.
By the flattened mound, only the drunkard's sorrowful sobs remained.
He was weeping for my grave.
Seeing his leg beaten and covered in blood, my heart ached.
Not many people knew I had died these past three years.
But the drunkard was the only one who never left me after my death.
He had once been severely injured for stealing, and I had found a doctor for him and given him a few meals.