Mrs. Morrison cursed, "You... you're talking nonsense, you're the one with a daughter who's a bastard for everyone to ride, he is my son, he is Nolan Morrison..."
Mrs. Johns glanced at Nolan Morrison, who was detached from the scene, and sneered, "Ha... Do you really think I'm an idiot? If he were Nolan Morrison, then what did you secretly bury in the Morrison family ancestral tomb a year ago, was it a stray dog?"
Saying this, she stood up, took a can out of a cardboard box, and slammed it onto the table, "Look at this, I had someone dig it up, tell me what are the things inside this small canister?"
Mrs. Morrison struggled at the sight of it.
It was an urn, that white ceramic urn, she bought it with her own hands, she filled it with ashes herself, it was her son, it was her Randy.
