I Buried My Son, You Pampered Your Mistress

Mrs. Laurent and I wept together. Mr. Laurent forced himself forward, glanced down and eventually, two silent tears slid down his face

"Didn't I tell them to clear out all the beehives near the villa? I even arranged for patrols! Where did these bees come from that stung my precious grandchild and triggered his allergy?!"

"It must be that bastard's private garden, right?!"

I forced a bitter smile. James knew full well about our son's bee allergy. He had even flattened the villa’s garden and poured concrete over it just to prevent accidents.

But when Greta returned, he became a different person.

Not only did he let Greta replant flowers and greenery, he also let her raise bees, saying it was all in the name of 'returning to nature.

When I brought up our son's allergy again, James lazily said, "I'll put up a fence. That way, the kid can't get in and there's no danger."

Fences might stop people, but how could they stop flying bees?

In an instant, memories of my son's painful struggle before he died flooded back.

I couldn’t break through the damned iron gate … I could only watch as he collapsed on the lawn, convulsing until he stopped moving.

When he died, his little body was stiff, covered in angry red welts, his eyes still clinging to life.

I couldn't accept it, so I held him tight and asked the mortician to cover those dreadful scars.

As if by doing so, my dear boy who once called me "Mommy" with his innocent voice might return.

As if he hadn't endured such unbearable suffering. As if he might wake up any moment.

Yet it was just a foolish hope.

The mortician finished covering the final rash, set down his pen and approached me with a solemn expression.

“Ma’am, your child is ready. He’s ready to begin his journey now.”

Only then did I realize the call had never ended and James' mocking voice echoed through the line.

“Evelyn, are you seriously playing the grieving heroine again? First, you drag Grandpa and Grandma into your act and now you're getting someone to say the child is ready to ‘begin his journey’? Don’t tell me you’re still at the funeral home?”

I was exhausted and didn’t want to argue anymore. “Yes, the child is at the funeral home. If you hurry, you can still see him one last time.”

I didn’t expect him to sneer:

“Evelyn! Do you have no shame? It’s just a bee sting! If he were really allergic, the hospital would've handled it! Do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for this?”

“Like mother, like son! No wonder the little brat’s been lying and acting like a spoiled child recently!”

Mr. Laurent couldn’t stand it anymore. He grabbed the phone and shouted angrily, “Bastard! Are you still with that vixen right now? Get over here now!”

Right after, he clutched his chest and slammed the phone down.

Mrs. Laurent rushed to help, but Mr. Laurent weakly pushed her away, sobbing.

“A cursed family! The grandson you raised says that even if Noah is really dead, it doesn’t matter, because that vixen still has another one in her belly and it’ll be even more obedient! Bastard!”

Grandma froze. Her teary, clouded eyes filled with pain. She looked at me with grief and pleaded.

“Evelyn, don’t listen to his nonsense. We only accept the child you gave birth to.”

“Don’t worry, your grandpa and I will go home right now, kick that vixen out and bring that guy here to kneel and apologize to you!”

A wave of bitterness rose in my throat. I shook my head. “Grandma, it’s fine. Since James has already turned away, I’ll just leave with Noah.”

“I’ve been tired for too long. I think … it’s time to go.”

The two elders stood there, speechless, staring at me.