I Buried My Son, You Pampered Your Mistress

James Laurent erupted in anger when our six-year-old son accidentally tripped and crushed a rose in the garden.

He ordered the boy to be locked inside the garden walls, demanding that he replant 999 roses.

He didn't know our son had been stung by a bee and was now lying on the lawn in convulsions.

I knelt before the iron gate, tears streaming down my face as I pleaded desperately.

"James, please! Look at Noah! He's been stung by a bee and he's allergic! Open the gate before he goes into shock and dies!"

James, holding his childhood sweetheart, Greta Adler, in his arms, stared down at me with a cold, unwavering gaze.

"Evelyn, as I've said before, this garden is meant exclusively for Greta! No outsiders are allowed!"

"You've spoiled Noah too much, letting him run wild. Now a few stings and he can't handle it? That allergy of his, it's just your indulgence!"

Greta scoffed in disdain. "Evelyn, spoiling your kid too much messed him up. Do you know how many flowers he destroyed? He needs to be taught a lesson.”

Then the two of them walked away, arms linked.

All I could do was swing a rusty shovel at the gate repeatedly, but it was in vain.

I could only watch helplessly as the bruises on my son's body spread, his movements slowed and he eventually fell silent.

I sank to the ground, pleading in despair for him to wake up, to call out to me once more. But he remained still.

An hour later, I finally managed to break open the gate.

Just then, James posted a sonogram photo on social media.

"Another precious life worth protecting. Thank you, @Greta_Adler."

My heart went cold. I left signed divorce papers on the study desk and arranged for the funeral home.

Then, I left a comment on the post.

“Wishing your love child a safe and healthy life.”

——

Moments later, James called.

His furious voice shattered the silence of the funeral home

“Evelyn, what the hell was that supposed to mean?”

"Greta and I have known each other since childhood. She got pregnant unexpectedly … of course I’m going to help her!"

“And the garden? You broke in, took Noah and ruined the lawn? You and your son really have a knack for ruining things, don’t you?”

“I won’t let this slide. Bring Noah back and replant every single one of those 999 roses! Otherwise, don’t even dream of stepping into the Laurents’ house again!”

I lowered my gaze. My hands were red and swollen from hitting the gate so hard. My chest was tight and numb.

Not far away, the mortician was carefully removing the bee sting that killed my son.

"James, Noah's dead. I’m never going back to that house!"

The line went quiet for a moment, then he let out a bitter laugh. "Evelyn, you're unbelievable. Still trying to win sympathy? Now you're cursing your own son?"

I heard a soft gasp from a woman on the other end of the line, leaving me speechless.

I recalled the sonogram photo. James and his new partner were expecting a child. Whether our son lived or died, it didn’t seem to matter to him.

I inhaled shakily. "James, I left the signed divorce papers in the study. Once you sign them, you and your precious childhood sweetheart can be together forever."

As I finished speaking, two frail elderly figures entered, leaning on their canes. "Where's our Noah? What happened to him?"

Seeing my son's grandparents, who had truly loved him I finally let the tears I’d been holding back fall. I collapsed into Mrs. Laurent's arms.

"Grandpa, Grandma ... I’ve failed as a mother. I couldn’t protect Noah. I allowed him to suffer so much before he passed."