The Villainess's Heartthrob Script: I Can Talk to Animals

Chapter 700: Chapter 700: Not the Same Person

The moment the call connected, the doctor said coldly, "Marcus Garrison, do you really not know why your mom’s attitude toward me changed after we got married?"

Hearing her bring this up, the man on the other end of the line asked in confusion, "Honey, why are you suddenly bringing this up again?"

"You don’t need to ask so many questions. Just answer me."

"Honey, I really don’t know. I’m not lying."

"Fine. I’ll trust you one more time." The doctor’s tone softened slightly. "I’m staying at a friend’s house tonight. You need to talk to your mom and find out exactly why her attitude toward me changed so drastically after we got married. Don’t contact me until you have a clear answer."

"Wait, honey, why are you being so serious all of a sudden?"

"I’ve made myself clear. What you do now is up to you."

With that, the doctor firmly hung up.

She put her phone in her pocket, but she was still too furious to let it go. She typed out a message detailing all the things her mother-in-law had done to her and sent it to her husband’s WeChat.

**

Tender slices of meat, spread across the grill, let out a SIZZLE as fragrant, hot oil seeped out. The rich aroma of meat filled the air.

Renee Jennings placed some meat on Michelle Fuller’s plate and said with a laugh, "Don’t get so caught up in the gossip that you forget to eat. It won’t taste good if it gets cold."

"I’m just a little grossed out," Michelle Fuller said with a pout. "That doctor’s mother-in-law is a real piece of work."

Phoebe Sawyer swallowed a piece of meat. "I wonder if she’ll get a divorce."

"That mother-in-law is ridiculous. If she hates her so much, why insist on living with her?" Michelle Fuller couldn’t wrap her head around it.

Renee Jennings said calmly, "Living together is how she torments her."

Sylvia Brooks’s brows furrowed. "Her mother-in-law is a truly terrible person."

"Let’s not talk about her anymore. Let’s talk about something happy," Renee Jennings said, trying to change the subject. But for a moment, she couldn’t think of anything happy to say.

The other three waited for a moment, but she remained silent.

"Renee, weren’t you going to say something happy?" Michelle Fuller couldn’t help but ask. "Why did you stop?"

Sylvia Brooks and Phoebe Sawyer also stared at her with wide, curious eyes.

Renee Jennings: "..."

She blinked innocently. "I meant you all should say something happy."

As the words left her mouth, Renee Jennings suddenly remembered something and glanced at her phone.

The Wisdom Tree had finally replied: [Streamer, sorry, I asked my friend. Her childhood photos don’t match the one you sent. It’s not the same person.]

Renee Jennings pressed her lips together, the light in her eyes dimming. After a moment, she typed back a reply: [It’s okay. Thanks anyway.]

"Renee, what’s wrong?" Michelle Fuller asked, noticing she had been staring blankly at her phone.

Renee Jennings put down her phone and let out a long sigh. "A couple of days ago, a netizen told me they knew a girl who looked a lot like... Sheryl’s sister. Today they told me it’s not the same person."

"Sheryl?" Michelle Fuller blinked. "Who’s that?"

Renee Jennings said, "Sheryl Sawyer. Sawyer."

"Sawyer? Her name is Sheryl Sawyer? That’s a beautiful name." After her initial surprise, Michelle Fuller took out her phone. "I’m going to update her contact name."

"Sure," Renee Jennings nodded.

Phoebe Sawyer wasn’t entirely clear on the situation. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, "Renee Jennings, is the little girl you’re looking for in your pinned video Miss Sawyer’s sister?"

Renee Jennings looked at her. "Yes. She was abducted by human traffickers sixteen years ago."

Phoebe Sawyer frowned, clenching her fists. "Those traffickers are despicable!" she said angrily. "I hope Miss Sawyer finds her sister soon."

"ACHOO—" In the courtyard, Sheryl Sawyer, who was learning to knit a scarf from Rhea Dempsey, sneezed.

Seeing this, Rhea Dempsey quickly asked, "Did you catch a chill? Maybe we should head back inside where it’s warmer."

Sheryl Sawyer rubbed her nose. "I don’t think so. The sun’s out. I’m fine."

Rhea Dempsey nodded. "Alright then. Just let me know if you start to feel cold."

"Okay," Sheryl Sawyer agreed with a smile, then asked, "Aunt Rae, how do I do the stitch here?"

"Like this..."

**

That evening, Marcus Garrison opened the door to his home, his face etched with exhaustion.

Mrs. Garrison, dressed in her pajamas, was sitting in the living room watching TV. She glanced at the time as he walked in. "It’s ten o’clock. Your wife still isn’t back."

"Mom, we need to talk," Marcus Garrison said, sitting down in a nearby armchair.

Mrs. Garrison asked suspiciously, "Talk? Talk about what?"

Marcus Garrison took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "About you and Renee."

"Me and Renee?" Mrs. Garrison frowned. "Did she go complaining to you about me?"

"No." Marcus Garrison sighed. "Renee hasn’t said a bad word about you. I’m the one who wants to know... why?"

A thought seemed to strike him. He stood up, walked over to the dining room, and looked at the dishes left on the table.

Mrs. Garrison’s expression shifted. "Marcus, are you hungry?"

Marcus Garrison picked up a plate that held only three slices of meat. His face was grim as he asked, "Mom, is this the food you left for Renee?"

"What about it?"

"People throw away more food than this," Marcus Garrison said, exasperated. "No wonder Renee’s been eating instant noodles every night."

Mrs. Garrison was not pleased. "Marcus, I don’t like the sound of that," she retorted. "Aren’t meat and vegetables more nutritious than instant noodles?"

Marcus Garrison laughed in exasperation. "Fine. We’ll set that aside for now. Let me ask you something else, Mom. Did you spit in these leftovers?"

"I... I did not!" Mrs. Garrison’s eyes flickered, betraying her guilt. "Is that more nonsense from Renee? How could I possibly do something like that? It’s disgusting."

How could Marcus Garrison fail to see her guilty conscience?

"Mom!" His voice was filled with helplessness. "I’m your son. Do you really think I can’t tell when you’re lying?"

Mrs. Garrison’s brow tightened. Her face hardened, and she said nothing.

Marcus Garrison took a deep breath and continued to press her. "Did you also deliberately throw Renee’s clothes on the floor and step on them?"

"What do you mean, ’deliberately’?" Mrs. Garrison shot back. "I was collecting the laundry, and they accidentally fell on the floor. That’s when I stepped on them. How can you take your wife’s side and falsely accuse me?"

"Am I falsely accusing you?" Marcus Garrison looked at his own mother, completely exasperated. "You’ve also been helping yourself to Renee’s skincare products, haven’t you?"

This time, Mrs. Garrison didn’t even bother to answer. She turned and walked toward her room. "I’m tired. I don’t have the energy to listen to all this bizarre nonsense."

"Mom! You were never like this before!" Marcus Garrison yelled, his voice thick with pain and helplessness. "Renee and I have only been married for three months! Will you only be happy once you’ve forced us to divorce?"

Mrs. Garrison stopped in her tracks. She spun around, stalked back to her son in a rage, and shrieked, "Marcus Garrison, are you raising your voice at me because of your wife? You’re an ungrateful son! You’ve forgotten all about your mother now that you’re married!"

The hands at Marcus Garrison’s sides clenched into tight fists. Suppressing his rage, he said, "If I were truly an ungrateful son, I wouldn’t be trying to talk this over with you. I’d be driving you straight back to your own home."