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My husband, Roy Morrison, made me his and Karen Marshall’s son’s surrogate mother, and I pretended to have no clue about that.
Instead, their son, Frank Morrison, was carefully raised by me for twenty–five years.
When Frank finally got the shares of my company and took over the Hawkins Group, Roy showed up with Karen, who was in a
wheelchair.
“Gloria Hawkins, Frank is our son. You have dominated him for twenty–five years; now it’s time to release him and let him be with his own mother, Karen,” said Roy to me.
Grinning meaningfully, I replied, “Sure, but I’m afraid Frank will say no.”
“Gloria, how can you treat Frank like that? He’s still a little boy, and you plan to drown him with these piles of homework?”
Karen used to be Roy’s younger brother’s wife. She pulled the weeping Frank into her arms with a coax. “Frank, don’t cry. Mom is so bad, right? What are these math quizzes for? You’re
still a child!”
Then, she dropped the pen and took Frank’s hand while saying to him tenderly, “How about we go to the yard and do some
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research about insects?”
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Playing with insects was one of Frank’s favorites, and his cloudy little face immediately turned sunny as he threw himself into
Karen’s arms.
Suddenly, he timidly turned his head to me as if asking for my permission.
Karen’s husband passed away in a car accident, and she also lost her legs just to save my husband.
Fate deprived her of her chance to be a mother from that nightmare.
Therefore, Karen poured all her maternal love into Frank.
People praised this young woman for being so benevolent since she cared for her deceased husband’s parents even after his death while looking after her nephew like he was her son.
Despite her reliance on the wheelchair, she still persisted in walking Frank to and back from school every day, not even daunted by snow.
Once there was a blizzard, and Karen fell down from the wheelchair with her forehead bumped, bleeding. However, she still showed up at the gate of Frank’s school in the afternoon with her wound roughly bandaged.
She was in charge of everything that Frank put into his mouth, chose all the outfits for this little boy, and always stood by him
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when he went to drink water or to play.
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All of this selfless and meticulous care for Frank was, as claimed by Karen because she wanted someone to be there for her, a wretched and infertile woman, when she aged.
The very fact was, that Frank was Karen’s biological son with my husband.
Reluctant to expose the truth, I just indulged her excessive maternal love for Frank.
To be honest, the company wore me out, and piles of contracts and documents needed my signature. Besides, Frank needed company during his childhood.
But letting Karen be with Frank didn’t mean giving in to my way of education. I still brought Frank to various activities to teach him what the big picture was and the correct outlook on life.
After all, Frank’s having a life view like a homewrecker was the last thing I wanted in my whole life.
Back to what was happening now, Karen was about to take Frank to the yard when I strode over to pull my son back.
“Karen, don’t spoil him. You don’t want him to become a lazy, cocky man, right?” I said.
She replied impatiently, “It’s just a break. Why so fussy?”
As she said that, she stroked Frank’s face and continued,
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“Frank’s gonna be the CEO of both the Hawkins and the
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Morrison Group. He’s not like those sad sacks. Even if he can do nothing, people will swarm to work for him.”
Then, she turned her wheelchair and took Frank’s hand.
I couldn’t help but sneer at this shortsighted woman.
Sparing myself the trouble of debating with her, I pulled Frank back. He was my nominal son, and I would definitely not give in even an inch in terms of his education.
Unexpectedly, the pull was so hard that Karen fell onto the floor with a painful moan. Then, she covered her head and curled up on the floor.
A trace of jealousy and hatred flashed in her gaze at me.
All of a sudden, someone rushed to us while inquiring anxiously, “What happened? Why did you fall, Karen?”
Then, a robust man strode to Karen and carried her in his arms.
The terrifying expression on her face immediately switched to a delicate frown, tears rolling down her cheek.
She muttered, “Roy, I just wanted to play with Frank and let him feel relaxed a little bit. He has been working on those math problems for more than an hour. But Gloria blamed me for spoiling Frank, and she just…”
Meanwhile, Karen hugged Roy’s arm and sobbed.
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Roy’s face obviously dropped after learning the whole story and reprimanded me, “I know you’re a workaholic, but can you please spare my son? He’s only eight years old! Don’t brainwash my son with your creed of life and make him a robot!”
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