The Movie The Preacher's Son Mga Nobela at Kwento

He looked up at me woefully and asked, "Mom, why did Dad say that I could just die?" Try as I might, I couldn't find the words to say. I didn't know how to explain this to Oscar. Joel hung up, and Terry looked down at me with disdain. "You heard him. Take your child and leave. Stop embarrassing yourself here." Just then, I saw Heather appear at the doorway with Dr. Frank Lamere. My eyes lit up, and I ran over with Oscar in my arms. "Dr. Lamere, please, look at my son! Dr. Jacquez refused to admit him and insisted that he wasn't sick. But I think he has acute aortic dissection."

"I didn't do anything to you. You betrayed me. Why? Just tell me why." His face was a wreck. Tears running down it. He wanted an answer. Fine. I'd give him one. He was the only son of the Moretti family. Born to be the Don. And he walked away. For me. His father pressured him every way you can pressure a man. He didn't budge. He wouldn't come home. He worked as a real-estate agent. Long hours. Took everything he made and brought it home. He said one day he'd save enough and he'd buy us a house.

He had eyes that looked like he knew secrets about everyone, eyes that were so cutting that looking inside of them felt like a sin. “-is actually a preacher’s kid. His father is a nice reverend back in Rocheport. It’s unfortunate he loved blood and guns more than the word.” Kara threw the said guy a wink. The guy simply nodded, before busying himself with his food. I tried to picture him in a church, and the only thing I saw was him terrorizing little Sunday school kids and having the grannies muttering a prayer of redemption. There was no way he was raised in a church. Literally no way.

"Dylan Skinner, you're under investigation for intentional harm and illegal organ trafficking. You need to come with us." My mother's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's impossible! My son just had a kidney transplant. He was only discharged today. How could he hurt anyone, let alone traffic organs?" My father shook his head, looking at Dylan lying pale on the bed. "My son has been weak since he was a kid. He barely even socializes. How would he have the chance to do something like that? You've got the wrong person!" Janice's voice trembled as she spoke. "Then can you tell me where Curtis is right now?"

She walked up to me and slapped me over and over. "You really hate Hunter that much?" Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. I wiped it away, and a terrifying smile curled across my lips. "Do you see that, Teyana Packard? Those ashes on the ground belong to your son! And the person responsible is the man standing right next to you!" "What nonsense are you spouting? Don't think I don't know what you're doing. You probably just found some construction material somewhere and are trying to pass it off as ashes.

] [Before demanding perfect grades from her son, maybe she should ask whether she could ever manage that herself. The moment Greg saw the fake wounds, he had delivered an Oscar-worthy performance. He had covered his mouth in disbelief as tears spilled from his eyes. Greg’s face had been soaked with tears as he pleaded hoarsely for Billy to get down from the window. “Billy, please get down! Stop scaring me. If anything happens to you, I won’t be able to go on either. I’m begging you. Please get down from there!” “No, Dad. I’ve been a terrible son. I’m so sorry!” Billy clenched his jaw as though he had finally made up his mind about something.

"I've got nothing left. The restaurant's gone, and I'm a hundred grand in debt from that hotel lease. You still want to call me 'mom'?" He hesitated for a split second. "Money or no money, you're still my mom! I'll find a job soon, and I'll help pay it all off!" I pushed the door open wider. "Fine. Come in." If he was really sincere, I'd see soon enough. Or maybe he had another angle—only one way to find out. Back at the old house, Henry played the role of devoted son perfectly. He handled every chore, cooked, and left at dawn each day to "look for work." Honestly, he seemed like a different person.

I just smirked. After wiping his forehead, he tried to calm himself. "I couldn't agree more, Mister Juarez. Look at Sebastian Gabrielle, my son. Where else did he inherit such a good-looking face?" My father jested. Mister Juarez laughed hysterically like he just heard the funniest joke ever. Plastic. Shifting topics from one to another was my father's forte. "I'll pretend I did not hear that, my love." A familiar voice of a woman echoed inside the house. Her voice sounded confident and territorial. Without even looking, I know exactly who she is.