Chapter 62: Chapter 62: This Pamela Sutton Cannot Be Spared

A cold glint flashed in Sue Lawrence’s eyes, her composure terrifyingly calm. "She must have been rescued by the team first. Now she’s deliberately leading them to our doorstep."

"You’ve got to be kidding me! Her? Kind?" Elliot Lawrence trembled with rage, his teeth chattering. "Just a few days ago, she was trying every trick in the book to extort half a million from our family. What makes you think she has good intentions now?"

"Of course she doesn’t."

The absurdity made Sue Lawrence laugh, but the smile held no warmth. Her lips curled into an arc as sharp and cold as ice as she slowly rose to her feet.

’Now that she’s forced our hand, there’s no hiding.’

’Refusing to leave now would be a dead giveaway. That viper, Pamela Sutton, will just sink her fangs into our family and never let go. She’s a menace we’ll have to deal with one way or another.’

’In that case, we’ll go to the bomb shelter.’

’This is the perfect opportunity to find a way to get rid of this menace, Pamela Sutton, and bury her in this frozen wasteland for good.’

Her mind made up, Sue Lawrence whipped around, her tone urgent yet calm. "Dad, Mom, hurry! Pack your things! Grab as much as you can, and make it look like we’re desperate to escape! Hurry!"

The words barely left her lips before she spun around and dashed up to the second floor. She ran to the room where the roof had caved in under the snow and, facing the opening, screamed with all her might, her voice shrill and helpless.

"Help—! Help! We’re in here! Please, save us—!"

Outside, the wind and snow howled like a ghost’s wail.

In just a few moments, the temperature dropped sharply by another two degrees.

Pamela Sutton stood beside the rescue team, her eyes filled with unspeakable, sinister calculations.

The Lawrence Family’s reputation as "great benefactors" was the sharpest tool in her arsenal, more than enough to get the rescue team to make an exception for them.

Besides, the rescue team was already scheduled to pass through this area. She felt her luck was simply off the charts.

The moment she heard Sue Lawrence’s cry for help, Pamela Sutton feigned surprise and turned around, though a vicious glint flashed in her eyes. "Did you hear that? There are people! There are people inside!"

The rescue team’s captain, Victor Keller, was a soldier who exuded a grim, imposing aura. Tall and powerfully built, he was bundled tightly in a military-grade winter suit. Beneath his helmet and goggles, his gaze was calm and hard. A weapon was slung over his shoulder, and his hands were covered in thermal gloves specially designed for extreme cold.

Behind him were not vehicles, but a long convoy of custom-built, heavy-duty sleds. A dozen or so were lined up, each capable of holding twenty to thirty people.

The sleds weren’t pulled by dogs, but by three robots that gleamed with a cold, metallic light. They moved on wide snowboards, clearly weapons of war built in preparation for this apocalypse.

The sleds were already carrying many people, but there were still empty spots, obviously with room for more survivors.

"Mr. Keller!" Pamela Sutton screeched.

Without turning his head, Victor Keller gave a stern order, "Julian Lowell, take a team and search to the northwest. We can take two more sleds at most, then we have to head back the way we came!"

"Sir!"

A soldier acknowledged the order and veered off to the side with an empty sled.

Not far away, a snowdrift suddenly collapsed with a WHOOSH, revealing a large opening.

A figure, bundled in so many layers they looked like a rice dumpling and were wearing three hats, wriggled out with great difficulty, like a maggot. They cried out hoarsely against the blizzard, "Help... help me..."

A soldier rushed forward. "How many in your group?"

"F-four..."

"On the sled!"

The person let out a sob of relief and screamed back toward the opening, "Hurry! Come on out! The government is here to save us!"

A frantic clatter of packing immediately echoed from the snow burrow, the sound of a desperate struggle against hopelessness.

Meanwhile, the Lawrence family finally emerged from beneath the snow.

Each of them was lugging a massive suitcase, all looking heavy and stuffed to the brim.

Compared to the many people on the sleds who had escaped with nothing, their party’s luggage immediately drew every eye.

Pamela Sutton’s gaze was glued to the suitcases like that of a starving wolf. She suddenly raised her voice, deliberately asking in a loud tone:

"Vivian, my dear... is that all food you’re carrying?"

A wave of revulsion washed over Vivian Young, and her expression instantly darkened. But her scarf was wrapped so tightly that no one saw the icy look in her eyes.

Even Sue Lawrence frowned deeply. ’This Pamela Sutton has to go.’

Just as she was about to speak, the rescue team captain, Victor Keller, spoke first, his voice stern. "Folks, you need to travel light. There are standard-issue supplies in the bomb shelter. The priority right now is saving as many lives as possible."

Too much luggage means less room for survivors.

The Lawrence family froze. Vivian Young and Mia Keller instinctively looked toward Sue Lawrence.

Without a second thought, Sue Lawrence was the first to act, tossing her suitcase into the snow.

’So Pamela Sutton wanted to use our supplies to turn everyone against us?’

’Fine. Now she had the perfect excuse to "get rid" of it all.’

’This way, no one could keep eyeing their family’s supplies.’

"The soldier is right. Saving lives is what matters most." Sue Lawrence’s voice was calm, yet it carried an undeniable authority. "Drop it all."

Without hesitation, the rest of the Lawrence family followed her lead, tossing their suitcases into the snow one by one.

Even little Leo Lawrence obediently tossed his own small case aside. His now-empty hand gripped Sue Lawrence’s tightly.

The seven of them climbed onto the sled one by one and took their seats.

Only Pamela Sutton, her face a mask of resentment and greed, stared at the abandoned suitcases, her eyes practically bulging from their sockets.

’That had to be full of supplies! Damn it, how could that family just toss them away like that?’

She couldn’t resist sighing with feigned regret, her voice dripping with acid.

"What a terrible waste... All those perfectly good supplies, thrown away just like that?"

Sue Lawrence looked up and fixed her with a cold stare. A chilling laugh that made one’s skin crawl escaped her lips. "Didn’t you hear the soldier? Or perhaps you’d like to get off, Auntie, and make room for our luggage?"

"You!"

Pamela Sutton’s eyebrows shot up in fury, and she looked ready to throw a screaming fit right then and there.

On another sled, her husband, Evan Lawrence, coughed loudly, his gaze severe. "That’s enough! Stop making a scene in front of all these people!"

Pamela Sutton forced herself to swallow her anger, but her eyes remained fixed on Sue Lawrence, burning with malice.

’Where in the world was her son, Donovan Lawrence?’ she wanted to demand.

’How could he have just... vanished?’

Yesterday, she had received an anonymous message. It was a single sentence: *Go ask Sue Lawrence where your son, Donovan Lawrence, is.*

’What exactly happened? Did Sue Lawrence have something to do with it?’

Worry, fear, and venomous hatred churned wildly in her chest.

She had dragged the rescue team here for two reasons: first, out of sheer malice, to steal the Lawrence family’s supplies; and second, to force Sue Lawrence out into the open and make her reveal Donovan Lawrence’s whereabouts.

But now was clearly not the time.

’First, the bomb shelter.’

’Once they got there...’

A vicious glint flashed in Pamela Sutton’s eyes.

Meanwhile, the family of four finally boarded the sled as well. Sue Lawrence glanced over at them. They were neighbors from her complex; she’d seen them around but didn’t know them well.

The family of four clutched eight suitcases between them, all bulging at the seams. Despite Victor Keller’s reminders to travel light and that there would be supplies in the shelter, they acted as if they hadn’t heard him, hugging their luggage for dear life.

Victor Keller looked on helplessly. On the sled, many eyes had already turned toward the new arrivals. Beneath eyelashes white with frost, dark eyes—some sullen, some greedy—stared intently at the family’s eight suitcases.