Old Mrs. Wilson heard the door open and smiled at Chaya Davis, saying, "Look, speak of the devil, and she shall appear."
Emerie Wilson burst in, storming straight towards Ophelia Wilson: "Ophelia, have you given any more thought to what I said last time?"
"Aunt..." Ophelia Wilson looked at her, troubled, with a pitiful expression in stark contrast to Emerie Wilson's furious demeanor, like a poor little thing bullied by an old witch.
"Don't call me aunt; if you can't get this done, I'll let you know I'm not your aunt." Emerie Wilson's words made Old Mrs. Wilson frown and she scolded, "Emerie, what are you doing?"
She was her treasured daughter after all, so after the scolding, Old Mrs. Wilson softened her tone, "Why can't you discuss things with Ophelia properly? Would Ophelia not wholeheartedly handle your affairs?"
This blatant favoritism was just forcing Ophelia Wilson to meet Emerie Wilson's demands.
Hearing her mother speak this way, Emerie Wilson felt a bit more at ease.
