The Bond Between Us (Anastasia and Herman)

Could Will's death really be so simple?

If the Brown family had been playing Jason for a fool all these years-using "gratitude" as an excuse to hold it over his head-well, that was just plain rotten.

Alisa worked at a beauty salon, so she always made sure to look her best, dressing sharp and keeping up appearances. Malia, her mother-in-law, was always worried men might flirt with Alisa, which was why she so often showed up at the salon to make a scene.

Alisa hadn't even noticed Anastasia in the crowd. She tossed a few words behind her and walked straight into the salon, not looking back.

Meanwhile, Malia was out on the sidewalk, ranting to anyone who'd listen about how Alisa was shameless and had brought about her son's death.noveldrama

People gathered for a minute, curious about the commotion, but nobody stuck around for long. Everyone was busy with their own lives-who really had time to care about someone else's family drama?

Anastasia approached. "Auntie, it's sweltering out here. Let me help you cross the street and find a cool spot to sit down. How about I buy you a cold drink?"

Malia didn't know Anastasia and had never seen her before.

Anastasia put on her most helpful face, gently guiding Malia along, all the while itching to get to the bottom of what really happened with Will.

Jason had always had her back. If the Brown family had truly been lying to and taking advantage of him, there was no way she could just sit back and do nothing.

Malia was grateful for the attention. She patted Anastasia's hand and said, "You're such a sweet girl."

Anastasia smiled, settled Malia at a table in a nearby café, and bought her a glass of iced juice. "Here, have something cold to drink. Don't get too upset-it's not worth ruining your health over."

Malia's mouth was bone-dry-she'd been shouting about Alisa for half the day. She knocked back half the juice in one go, and, feeling a bit better, began pouring her heart out: "My life's so hard. My son married a woman with loose morals. She used to pretend to be such a good daughter-in-law, and I treated her like my own child. Who knew she was so two-faced? She even mortgaged our house behind our backs! And now she works at that beauty salon-places like that are just no good."

In Malia's old-fashioned eyes, beauty salons were nothing but trouble-full of flashy girls hoping to land a rich husband.

Hearing Malia bash the salon business made Anastasia bristle inside. That kind of narrow-mindedness hit a nerve; her friend Monica worked at a salon too, after all.

Still, she kept her expression neutral-she was here for answers. "Don't be upset, Auntie. I think I overheard your daughter-in-law say something about cancer?"

Anastasia put on a look of deep concern.

Mentioning her son brought tears to Malia's eyes. She dabbed at them and said, "My son was a hero, a police officer. He didn't die from some illness-he died in the line of duty, for the country."

Anastasia rolled her eyes inwardly. What a way to rewrite history-she'd clearly heard Alisa say Will died of cancer.

"Your son sounds amazing,"

Anastasia said, keeping her voice steady. "Actually, I'm a doctor. I just overheard your daughter-in-law mention cancer, and I have to admit, I'm a little worried about you You look a bit pale, and your lips are turning purple-these days, cancer can run in families, you know?"

Malia had worked herself up so much, it was no wonder she looked unwell.

Anastasia's gentle fib did the trick-Malia's face changed in an instant.

"Stomach cancer can be inherited?" Malia blurted out. "My son had it could that pass on to me? But I'm his mother, that doesn't make sense, does it?"

She clearly understood a little about genetics-illness usually goes from parent to child, not the other way around.

Anastasia hid her satisfaction. She quietly hit record on her phone, ready to keep guiding the conversation.

"Auntie, all sorts of illnesses can be

passed along in some way,"

Anastasia said, continuing her act

"If your son had stomach cancer, it'd be wise for the whole family to get checked, just to be safe. From what I've seen at the hospital, lots of cancers show up in families. And if you catch stomach cancer late, there's not much that can be done."

Malia's hands started to shake. "You're right, dear. When my son was diagnosed, it was already late stage. The doctors said he wouldn't last three months. White-haired people shouldn't have to bury their black-haired children."

Getting older is scary enough—when you've already lived through tragedy, it's

easy to start believing the worst.