My Dying Mom Wants Me; Husband Forbids It

Bartholomew narrowed his eyes and said coldly, "Are you threatening me?" I didn't hide it. I just nodded. "That's right. I'm threatening you." Bartholomew sneered. "Go ahead and try." "Let me make this crystal clear. You're staying here today. I don't care who shows up." Just then someone came running from the kitchen. "We need more hands out here. There aren't enough people to carry the dishes." Bartholomew hauled me to my feet. "Go. Go carry the dishes." He shoved me all the way into the kitchen. The Donaldsons had set out ten tables for the birthday banquet. They'd hired cooks, but there still weren't enough hands. So Bartholomew put me to work, running back and forth to help with everything. Everyone else sat at the tables, eating, drinking, chatting. I was soaked in sweat, my hands and feet aching, and not one person cared. As if it were only right and proper that I should slave and suffer here. Plate after plate came out scalding hot, and I loaded them onto a tray and gritted my teeth and carried them to every table. At first Bartholomew kept watching me, but once he saw me carrying dishes like an obedient little thing, he relaxed and went off to drink and swap boasts with the others. I took the chance to slip out of the Donaldson house, hailed an Uber, and headed straight for the hospital. As for the Donaldsons' banquet... they could do whatever they wanted with it. When I reached the ward, my father was waiting for me, his eyes rimmed red. He was the only one at my mother's side. He said in a low voice, "Your mother took a bad turn very fast. Everyone else is still on the way. I don't know if they'll make it in time." I nodded, holding back tears. There was no time to tell him about Bartholomew. I threw myself down at my mother's bedside. She lay there, worn to skin and bone, and the sight of her sent the tears streaming down my face. She seemed to have already slipped into a coma. I held her hand and called to her softly. "Mom. Mom..." Slowly, she opened her eyes. They were dull, wandering blankly over everything around her. But the moment they caught on me, a spark came back into them. With great effort she reached out and gently stroked my head. "Charlene. You came." I bent down so she wouldn't have to lift her arm so far. My mother said quietly, "I'm all right. Don't you worry. Everyone goes through this in the end, sickness and dying, all of it." "As long as you're doing well, I can rest easy." At that I broke down and sobbed out loud. It had always been this way, since I was small. However much she suffered, however much she was wronged, she never dwelled on it. She only ever cared whether I was doing well, whether I was happy. She was the person who loved me most in this world. And now she was leaving too. My mother drew a breath and asked in a low voice, "You and Bartholomew, you're doing fine?" I couldn't bear to let her go carrying that worry, so I lied. "We're doing fine." She nodded faintly. "Good. That's good." But right then, a hand seized me by the hair and dragged me down to the floor. I struggled up and saw that it was Bartholomew. He'd come with a pack of the younger Donaldsons. Right there at my mother's bedside, he slapped me across the face without a word. "It's my father's birthday. What are you crying for?" "I told you not to come see some dying woman, and you had to come anyway. Who exactly are you inviting bad luck onto, huh?"

My father rounded on Bartholomew with a roar. "Get out of here." Bartholomew acted as if he hadn't heard a word, still trying to hit me. Right then, the alarm on my mother's monitor went off. Her heart rate and blood pressure were plummeting. Doctors rushed into the room. I stared at Bartholomew, sick with grief and rage. "You want my mother to die with regret, don't you? I hate you." My anger didn't touch him at all. He motioned to the men he'd brought, and they closed in to drag me out. I sobbed and screamed, "I'm not going back. I'm staying with my mother." Bartholomew snapped, impatient. "What good does staying do? You think you can lend her some of your years?" "Come back with me right now. Stop wasting time here." I clawed at him like a madwoman, biting down anywhere I could reach. He grabbed me by the collar, drew back his hand, and slapped me hard across the face. "Have I spoiled you rotten all these years?" he spat at me. Blood ran from my nose and mouth. Carly, my husband's sister, kicked me too, her voice sour with irritation. "You married into our family, so you follow our family's rules." Then the room went eerily quiet. I turned to look. My mother's heartbeat had already flatlined. My father walked over slowly and said in a low voice, "She's gone. She went crying." Bartholomew said, "Good. She's dead, you've had your last look, now come back with me." My father's face went ashen as he shouted at him, "Are you even human? Is that any way for a person to talk?" "Bartholomew, you're an animal! You don't have a shred of humanity in you." Bartholomew frowned. "Which part of what I said was wrong?" "You have to be a good child to both sides, right? This side's done, so isn't it my father's turn now?" "And besides, all our relatives are here today, and Charlene, the eldest daughter-in-law, is the one who slipped off." "How does that look? People who don't know better would think we'd had a fight." He said to me in a commanding tone, "Come back with me now." "And once we're at the party, don't you dare bring up your mother's death. It's bad luck!" My father, shaking with fury, swung his hand and slapped Bartholomew. Beside him, Carly cursed at once. "You old wretch, what do you think you're doing?" She swung her foot at my father. I threw myself in front of him. But Carly shoved me hard, and I went down, my head striking the hospital bed. The pain tore a stifled cry out of me. My father, furious and frantic, clutched his chest and crumpled. His heart condition had struck. I scrambled to him. "Dad, Dad..." A doctor a few steps away ran over to treat him. Bartholomew blocked the doctor, his voice cold. "We're not treating him." Shock and rage broke over me and I screamed, "What did you say? What gives you the right? That's my father. Get out of the way." Bartholomew said, slow and low, "Charlene, you come back with me right now." "Otherwise I'll stand right here, and there'll be no saving your father."

Something in me went cold, all the way through. I got slowly to my feet. "Fine. I'll go back with you." My father could barely draw a breath. His face was ashen. "You can't," he forced out. "You can't go." I lowered my voice. "Dad, don't worry. I'll be back soon." Bartholomew sneered at my father, mocking. "Dad, aren't you being petty? You could stand to learn a thing or two from Charlene. See how well she handles herself." He stepped aside to let the doctors and nurses through. As for me, he took hold of my arm and pulled me toward the door. I glanced back once. My father's condition had already steadied a good deal. I let out a breath and followed Bartholomew out of the hospital. In the car, Bartholomew said, "Let me remind you one more time. At the party, not a word about dead people. Otherwise don't blame me for what happens." I nodded. "Plenty of the relatives already know you slipped off," Bartholomew went on. "When we get there you apologize, and you do it properly. No talking back. No arguing." I nodded again. Beside him, Carly spoke up. "My boyfriend's family came today too. He's the heir to the Jennings Group. Sebastian Jennings." "Rich, powerful, and good-looking. A golden goose landing right in our family's lap." "Watch your mouth when you talk. If you give them the wrong idea about how this family runs, if you make a bad impression, I'll never forgive you." I froze for a second, and all at once I understood why the Donaldsons had treated me so viciously today. They thought they'd hooked the heir to the Jennings Group. And me, the one who'd done so much for them, had simply been thrown aside. Bartholomew hadn't spared a single thought for how I felt. He'd forbidden me from seeing my own mother, all so Carly's boyfriend would come away with a good impression, so he'd think the Donaldsons were close, harmonious, one big happy family. Thinking of it, I nodded slowly and said to Carly, "I understand. Don't worry. I know what to do." Seeing me so obedient, Bartholomew was satisfied. "Once the party's over," he said, "I'll send a funeral wreath for your mother. Call it a reward for being sensible." Soon the car stopped. We'd arrived at the Donaldson house. The ten tables of banquet food were still set out in the yard, and the relatives who'd come to eat were still there. They were talking away, the whole place buzzing. But the moment I walked in, everyone stopped. The Donaldsons all stared at me with open displeasure. The neighbors and friends wore the look of people settling in for a show. Only the table where the Jennings family sat carried on, flattered and fawned over by the Donaldsons, laughing and chatting, with no idea what was going on. My mother-in-law came over, her face dark as iron, spat at my face, and cursed under her breath. "Your father-in-law's birthday, and you, the daughter-in-law, run off first? Is that any way to act? Is that how you were raised?" I kept my head down and said nothing. Bartholomew's uncle came over too, looking me up and down with disgust. "Where did you go? Off gallivanting somewhere?" "The Jennings family wanted to get to know our family just now, and of course you weren't here. Do you have any idea how awkward that was?" Still I said nothing. The neighbors and friends put their heads together, murmuring about me. "That Donaldson daughter-in-law looked so meek, who'd have thought she'd be this ill-bred." "You never really know a person, do you. She needs someone to teach her some manners." Bartholomew pinched me hard and hissed, "Have you gone mute?" I forced three words out through my teeth. "I'm sorry." My mother-in-law shot me a look. "Stop embarrassing yourself out here. Go to the kitchen and bring out the dishes." "If the Jennings family asks later, you say you went out to buy groceries." I didn't move. Instead I said quietly, "I left without a word just now, and I ruined Father-in-law's birthday. I feel terrible about it." "I'd like to perform something, to make it up to Father-in-law. And to the Jennings family too." My father-in-law nodded. "At least you've got some sense." For his birthday he'd specially hired a few performers to sing and dance. The truth was no one was actually watching them sing or dance. They were just background noise, something to keep the place lively. But when I stepped up onto the stage, every eye turned to me. I took the microphone, drew a deep breath, and said loudly, "You're probably all wondering why I suddenly left." "It's because my mother was dying and wanted to see me one last time." Bartholomew's face changed in an instant. He pointed at me and snarled, "Shut your mouth!" But my voice only grew louder. I'd come here today to blow it all open anyway. Grief and fury broke out of me. "I told Bartholomew, and he wouldn't let me go." "All I could do was sneak away, but he came after me and beat me right in front of my mother." "My mother was driven to her death by him." "The last thing my mother ever saw in this world was Bartholomew hitting me." I broke down, sobbing. "I never imagined I'd married a monster like this." And the Donaldsons' friends and neighbors shot to their feet, staring at the family in disbelief.