My Mother Died While He Built Her Farm

For five years, Harry Shaw, my boyfriend from one of the city’s elite families, always said his mother favored an independent daughter-in-law. When I forgot my fob key downstairs while walking the dog and called him for help, he replied: “Eliza, it’s only the eighteenth floor. Put some effort into it and climb up.” “When you meet my mom, she’ll definitely praise you for being such a resourceful, strong young woman. You’ll be one step closer to becoming a Shaw.” I understood the rules of old money—they had a lot of them—so I quietly put the ninety-pound Alaskan Malamute on my shoulder and climbed the stairs. When my direct-entry Ph.D. fellowship was suddenly revoked by the university and I asked him to call the committee head, he scoffed: “You need me to step in for something like this? How can you ever be a qualified Mrs. Shaw?” Even when my mother, Diane, was diagnosed with acute lymphoma, and I begged him to lend me a hundred thousand dollars for the surgery, his refusal was icy: “Eliza, you need to find this money yourself. Our family doesn't like people who can't take care of their own financial problems.” I was running a DoorDash delivery to earn money for my mother’s care when I got the message that she had died. Simultaneously, Harry Shaw’s good deed—helping a classmate with farm work in her hometown—went viral on social media. #HarryShawSpottedWithNewGirlfriend,ParentsAreFarmers #SierraWells,TheFellowshipSlot #ShawHeirSpendsThreeMillionToBuildWellsFamilyFarm My takeout bag slipped, scattering dinner all over the pavement. It was in that moment, staring at the ruined meal, that I finally understood. It wasn’t that the Shaw family needed an independent daughter-in-law. It was that Harry simply had no room for me in his life. 1 When I finally reached the hospital, the life monitor over Mom’s bed was displaying that terrifying, single flat line. The doctor had already covered her with a white sheet, leaving her pushed casually to the side of the room. I completely broke down, collapsing to the floor and pleading with the physician: “Doctor, why aren’t you trying to save her? Why did you stop?” The doctor stepped back, a look of tired annoyance on his face. “Ms. Cole, you owe us over two hundred thousand in medical bills for the last month.” “We gave you a final ultimatum. If the payment wasn’t made today, we had no choice but to stop treatment.” Tears blurring my vision, I scrambled for my phone. “My boyfriend is very wealthy. I’m calling him right now to come pay.” “Please, just try to revive her again.” I called him over and over, each time resulting in the long, hopeful du-du-du that ended only with a hang-up. The doctor looked at me like I was insane. “Ms. Cole, please accept our condolences.” How could I possibly accept that Mom was just... gone? My father died when I was three. My mother raised me alone, never once considering remarriage, her entire focus on me. When relatives mocked her for letting a girl read so much, urging me to work and help her, she stood behind me, a rock, promising to support my education for as long as I wanted to study. Just then, my phone started buzzing incessantly. The class group chat had exploded. Sierra Wells had posted photos of Harry, bent over, applying fertilizer. [Harry worked so hard today, cutie pie ~] [My parents were stressing about those acres, but Harry brought a dozen of his security staff to help, and they finished everything in one day.] [Oh, he also paid to expand our land and fulfill my parents’ dream of running a real farm.] Tears traced slow, hot paths down my cheeks. I noticed the crescent-shaped indentations my fingernails had left in my palms; blood was dripping onto the tile floor. Someone chimed in: [Saw the news about you two today! Harry, what’s the deal? Why are you being so sweet to Sierra?] [Seriously, people might think you're actually dating. You were never this nice to your actual girlfriend.] [Yeah, haven’t seen you and Eliza in a while. Did you break up?] Harry didn't deny it or confirm it. He just replied: [Everyone’s happy today, and it happens to be Sierra’s mother’s birthday.] [Sierra mentioned she’s never had a real birthday celebration. I’m hosting a dinner tonight. How about everyone comes to join the fun and sing 'Happy Birthday' to Mrs. Wells?] Harry had always looked out for Sierra, claiming her family was poor and she'd be discriminated against without his help. He insisted that as classmates, it was his duty to provide extra care. I used to feel an ache of discomfort, but I’d always manage to convince myself that Harry was just a kind-hearted person. But now, looking at my quiet, cold mother, and then at the celebratory noise in the group chat, I felt like the biggest fool alive. Since Mom got sick, I’d been begging Harry to lend me the money, offering to sign an IOU. He always refused, giving me the same line: “Eliza, what if you didn't have me as a boyfriend?” “The Shaw family rules are strict. If my mother finds out you relied on me to save your mom, you’ll never marry me. She’ll look down on you.” “Be a good girl. Rely on yourself.” And now, he was hosting a lavish birthday gala for Sierra’s mother at the city’s best hotel. The cost of a single table was three times my mother’s monthly treatment fee. Finally, Harry called me back. The first words out of his mouth were: “Don’t bother with DoorDash tonight. Sierra wants you to come to her mother’s birthday dinner, too.” “How much do you earn in a day? I’ll compensate you. Is two hundred dollars enough?” 2 My voice was trembling, impossible to control. “Harry, what is your relationship with Sierra?” “What relationship could it be? We’re classmates.” The tears wouldn’t stop falling. “Then why are you so devoted to her and so completely negligent of me?” He sounded annoyed. “How many times do I have to explain this to you?” “We’re classmates; it’s the right thing to help her, isn't it?” “You, on the other hand, are my girlfriend, my future wife. I’ve always been training you to be a proper, independent, and compliant Mrs. Shaw.” The same old excuse. I’d heard it too many times. But the attention he gave Sierra had long crossed every line, making me flash back to when he was pursuing me. Then, he couldn't do enough; he would painstakingly remove the seeds from strawberries for me and shower me with designer bags and jewelry. Everyone on the campus forum envied me, and the question I heard most often was: “Harry, why are you so good to Eliza? Aren’t wealthy guys usually playboys?” “Because I love Eliza, and keeping her happy is my only priority.” “And I’ll be the most loyal man this family has ever produced.” He changed the moment Sierra transferred to our program. Suddenly, he decided he’d spoiled me too much and started preaching independence as the key to marrying him. I should have seen it then: he had changed his mind. “Harry, I’ve had enough. Whoever wants to be a Shaw wife can have it. I’m out.” “What is wrong with you today? Did you drink battery acid?” I screamed into the phone. “My mother is dead, Harry. Do you know why? Because I couldn’t afford her hospital bill, and the doctors stopped her medication.” “If you had just loaned me the money, her disease wouldn’t have progressed this fast.” “She wouldn’t have died from lack of treatment.” Silence on the other end. Then a brittle laugh. “Eliza, stop lying.” “I’ve explained this to you so many times. If I loan you money, people will think you’re a gold-digger. If that rumor reaches my family, you’ll never get in. I was protecting our future.” “And now you’re so jealous you’re fabricating your mother’s death just to make me feel guilty. Eliza, how could you be so manipulative?” Sierra snatched the phone. Her voice was a whiny, pleading whisper. “Eliza, don’t scare him like that.” “There’s really nothing going on between us. Harry just felt sorry for me and helped me out.” “Giving me your direct-entry fellowship and helping my family build a farm... he’s done so much for me. How could I ever be cruel enough to break you two up?” My heart seized for a second. The air I gasped for tasted metallic, like blood. “What did you just say?” When my fellowship was revoked and handed to Sierra, I tried to get an explanation from the committee head, who was Harry’s uncle. I was constantly brushed off and told it was confidential. I never, in my wildest nightmares, considered that Harry had actively sabotaged me. He kept talking about how the Shaw family preferred a competent and independent woman, all while deliberately clipping my wings to nourish hers. It was a vicious joke. Sierra sounded close to tears. “Eliza, did I say something wrong?” Harry took the phone back. “Okay, stop causing a scene. It’s no big deal.” “You’ll have everything you want once you marry into the Shaw family. Why are you competing with Sierra?” “I’ll double my compensation—is five hundred dollars enough? Just drop your delivery bag and come celebrate with us.” I wanted to refuse, but the doctor shoved a final bill into my hand: “Total outstanding balance is just under two hundred seventy thousand. The chief told me if it’s not paid within three days, we have to file a lawsuit.” Tears dripped onto the paper. After a month of non-stop DoorDash shifts, my salary was less than nine thousand dollars. On the phone, Harry was already raising the offer to five thousand for the night. “Eliza, seriously, enough is enough. It’s five grand. Don’t push your luck and think you can manipulate me.” I swallowed, my voice flat. “I’ll come to the party. Thirty thousand dollars for the night.” I was ready for his outright refusal, but he was willing to pay anything to keep Sierra happy. “Fine. Thirty thousand. But wear something festive tonight. Stop wearing those drab, awful clothes of yours.” After hanging up, I leaned over my mother, feeling her already cold skin one last time. My tears soaked the white sheet. That’s when I noticed a small piece of paper clutched in her hand. I carefully unfolded it. It listed the location of her savings book and an address in Boston: [Liza, after I’m gone, go to your Uncle Leo.] 3 Before I could process the note, the hearse arrived. I followed my mother to the funeral home. Harry's messages immediately started popping up: [Why aren't you here yet? Everyone’s waiting for you.] [Just wired you 30k. Put the memo as: Voluntary Gift.] The thirty thousand dollars appeared in my account. For a brief, agonizing second, a wave of bitterness washed over me. He really was that generous when it came to making Sierra happy. I spent the ride staring out the window, deep in thought, until we arrived at the hotel. The moment I stepped into the private ballroom, a cheer erupted. Harry had Sierra’s chin tilted up, and he was kissing her aggressively, their embrace melting together. Their faces were flushed. Beside them, two middle-aged people, her parents, were taking proud photos. I froze. The scabs on the cuts I’d made on my palm the day before were split open again, blood welling up and running over my hand. Just then, a volley of fireworks exploded outside. They pulled apart, looking slightly breathless. “Mom and Dad, I told you Harry was your future son-in-law! You didn’t believe me!” Sierra giggled. “He promised me he’d be good to me forever.” “Look! These are all the gifts he got you. And the fireworks display!” [HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MRS. WELLS. GOOD HEALTH AND GOOD FORTUNE.] The huge message lit up the night sky, and Sierra's mother beamed, barely able to contain her joy. “Oh, you sweet boy. You’ve put so much thought into this.” “Did this birthday party cost you a lot?” Harry smiled charmingly. “It was nothing, Mrs. Wells. Just over three million dollars.” “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” My heart twisted in my chest. To please Sierra, he was willing to spend three million dollars on a birthday gala for her mother. Yet he wouldn’t lend me one hundred thousand dollars, despite five years of shared life, to save my own mother. Harry Shaw, how could I not resent you? I turned to leave, but Sierra called out. She was smiling, holding up her phone. “Eliza, you made it.” “Could you take a family picture for us?” Harry looked momentarily guilty, but he quickly fell back into character. As the shutter clicked, my heart pulsed with a sharp, blinding pain. The photos were instantly posted online, causing an uproar along with the fireworks. Everyone gushed: [They look so perfect and so happy!] [Marry a man like this! Handsome, rich, and so devoted to spoiling his girl.] [Mr. Shaw, stop being so in love already!] I don’t know how I made it through the rest of the night. All I remember is that, in the end, Harry hailed me a cab. “Eliza, Sierra’s asleep. I need to take her home myself.” “You go ahead.” “Driver, take her to the Ridgewood Estates.” I shook my head. “No. To the funeral home.” Harry’s face went pale. “Eliza, stop this. Seriously.” “Why in the hell would you go to a funeral home? Are you trying to deliberately disgust me?” “Sierra is the guest of honor tonight. We were just putting on a show for her and her parents.” I laughed. After everything, he was still trying to explain. But it no longer mattered. He felt more repulsive to me now than the bile-inducing vodka I’d downed earlier. I told the driver, “The funeral home, please.” On the way back, the cab’s radio was playing the news, which happened to be an interview with Harry’s mother, Mrs. Shaw. The reporter asked: “Have you seen the news about your son’s public romance? What are your thoughts?” “It seems like he is very devoted to this relationship, spending millions on his girlfriend’s mother’s birthday party.” “The girl’s parents are farmers. The family background doesn't match the Shaw Dynasty. Will you break them up?” Mrs. Shaw’s voice was warm and gentle. “I just saw the news. The girl seems wonderful.” “The Shaw family has always supported freedom in marriage. As long as my son is happy, we don't have all those archaic rules.” A fresh wave of bitterness washed over me. The image she presented was nothing like the “strict matriarch” Harry had always described. I finally knew the truth: the “strict rules” were just a convenient lie Harry had used to push me away once he’d found someone else to obsess over. That night, I kept vigil by my mother's casket. Harry was exchanging intimate videos with Sierra. My phone buzzed: [Eliza, did you see? Mrs. Shaw already approves of me. I am his legitimate girlfriend.] [You are nothing but a pet Harry kept around for his own amusement. A dog.] [He has no feelings for you. Now get lost.] She was right. But even a cornered dog will bite. 4 After I buried my mother, I held up my ID and posted a video to social media, reporting Sierra Wells’s fellowship slot as an act of fraud and unauthorized transfer. The video went viral within minutes. The most absurd thing was that Harry, who hadn't contacted me in days, violently slammed open the door of my apartment. His face was red with fury. “What the hell is this online report? What do you think you’re doing?” “Do you realize this could ruin Sierra’s career?” “Is this the measure of the future Mrs. Shaw? You need to go online right now and post a retraction, saying you only slandered Sierra because you were jealous.” I stared into his raging eyes, my reply firm. “You two are sleeping together. How am I still connected to you?” “Stop trying to gaslight me with that ‘Mrs. Shaw’ nonsense.” Then Sierra rushed in, collapsing onto her knees in front of me, crying: “Eliza, we just lost control for a moment! I promise I’ll stay away from Harry from now on, okay?” “Are you really going to destroy my future just for this?” I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “What future? The one you stole from me?” Smack. Harry’s palm landed hard across my cheek. He pulled Sierra up, his expression full of protective concern. “Sierra, you don’t need to beg her.” “Eliza, I’ll give you three minutes to reconsider.” My ears were ringing. I fought back the tears and returned the slap with all my strength. “Everything I’ve exposed is what you both earned.” Harry’s brow furrowed into a deep scowl. “Fine. Don’t regret this.” They quickly released a statement: [The university has re-audited the application, and Sierra Wells’s Ph.D. fellowship is legitimate and without issue.] Then, someone posing as a witness released a silent video clip of Sierra kneeling in front of me. [I’m in their class. Eliza has always been jealous of how pretty Sierra is and her academic success, so she’s been bullying her for a long time.] [She dares to make her kneel in front of Harry. Imagine how she abuses her in private.] [She’s been obsessed with Harry forever. When the news about him and Sierra broke, she got so angry she actually claimed her own mother died, just to make him feel guilty for ignoring her.] The topic shot up the trending list, and no one cared about the fellowship fraud anymore. They framed the entire event as my jealousy and bullying. The online outrage was relentless: [You cursed your mom to die? Hope it comes true. You should join her.] [The way you bully her is disgusting, miss. You’ll never land a good man like Harry Shaw.] [How dare you abuse Sierra? Harry was merciful not to kick you to death.] Someone dug up an old photo of my mother and photoshopped a funeral portrait for both of us, spreading it across social media. The torrent of pure malice made my body ice cold, trembling with rage. I thought of the note my mother had left me. The one with the address. With things escalating this quickly, my only hope was to go to Boston and find Uncle Leo.

? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "388613", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel