Chapter 162: A Mother’s Fury
Elizabeth’s POV
As the Murphy family filed out of Anna’s hospital room, I noticed Jack Simpson lingering behind. He’d been so quiet throughout the visit that his presence had been almost forgotten.
Looking at him now, all the rage I felt toward Mary Simpson bubbled up again, burning through my chest like acid.
"You should leave too," I said, my voice sharper than I’d ever heard it.
"Annie needs rest."
My feelings toward this former son-in- law were painfully complex. Jack himself wasn’t evil—just a man who hadn’t loved my daughter enough. But his mother? My fingers curled into fists at the mere thought of her.
"I wanted to apologize on behalf of my mother," Jack said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Something inside me snapped. The words erupted before I could temper them.
"Your apology means nothing. Even if she knelt before us and begged forgiveness, it wouldn’t matter." My voice trembled with unleashed fury.
’Tell your mother to cross the street if she sees me coming, because I’ll slap her every time our paths cross."
The words shocked even me. This wasn’t how Elizabeth Shaw spoke to people. But the image of Anna’s blank, terrified face when she thought Marcus was dead-that justified everything.
Jack stared at me, clearly stunned to see the transformation of the Southern lady who had once welcomed him into our family. He hadn’t realized what his mother’s actions had pushed me to become.
I noticed Anna had closed her eyes, refusing to even look at him. Jack understood the message. With a slight nod to Margaret and me, he turned and left without another word.
The moment the door closed, Anna’s eyes fluttered open. The exhaustion etched on my daughter’s face made my heart constrict painfully.
"You must be tired," Margaret said immediately, her voice soft with concern. "Rest now. Grandma and Mom are right here."
I tucked the blanket around Anna’s shoulders. "Sleep, sweetheart. Betty has gone back to Goldenleaf Manor to prepare a special post-delivery soup for you. Rachel is standing guard outside the nursery, and I’ve arranged security for the entire floor. No one will disturb you or the babies."
Surprise flickered across Anna’s face.
She hadn’t expected me to think of security-to understand her fear that someone might try to take or switch her precious babies. The realization that I’d anticipated her needs brought a small smile to my lips.
"Alright, I’ll sleep for a while. Wake me if anything happens," she murmured, her voice already heavy with approaching sleep.
"Everything’s taken care of. Just rest," I whispered, watching as her eyelids grew heavy.
Once Anna was asleep, I helped Margaret to the adjoining rest area before returning to my post beside the bed. Watching my daughter’s peaceful face.
Jack’s POV
pushed open the doors of the Simpson mansion, the familiar weight of dread settling in my chest before I’d even crossed the threshold. The house felt colder than usual, emptier somehow, despite the expensive furnishings and artwork that my father had collected like trophies.
My mother sat in the living room, her arm in a sling. When she spotted me, her face contorted into a grimace of self-pity.
"Jack, finally! You’ve completely lost your mind, your grandfather’s hand was so heavy, my arm is fractured." She gestured dramatically to her injury, as if I should rush to comfort her.
"The doctors said it might never heal properly."
I surveyed her silently, noting the angry red scratches across her face and neck-Elizabeth Shaw’s handiwork.
The sight should have stirred some filial concern, but I felt nothing except hollow disappointment.
Without responding, I turned toward the staircase.
’That’s it?" Mother’s voice rose sharply.
"Your own mother is injured and you don’t even ask how I’m feeling?"
I stopped, shoulders tensing, and slowly turned back to face her.
"Mrs. Shaw asked me to tell you to stay away from her," I said, my voice deadly calm. "If she sees you again, she’ll make you regret it."
Mother’s face flushed crimson, her eyes bulging with rage. "That pretentious bitch! She thinks she can threaten ME?
I’ll make her pay for this. I’ll ruin that smug face of hers!"
Each venomous word made my skin crawl. Was this really the woman who raised me? This bitter, hateful creature spewing obscenities in our formal living room? The contrast between her refined appearance and her gutter language made my stomach turn.
"So Anna really had twins? A boy and a girl?" She asked suddenly, her tone shifting with unsettling speed.
My jaw clenched involuntarily. "The Shaw family has security everywhere.
Mother, you’d better not disturb Anna’s rest. If Grandpa William finds out, there will be consequences."
"You’re still thinking about her?" She laughed, the sound like glass breaking.
"Are you stupid? That woman doesn’t care about you anymore. She and Marcus got together without any regard for your feelings!"
Her words lodged like shrapnel in my chest. The pain was familiar-l’d been carrying it since I first learned about Anna and Marcus. But as I stood there, something shifted inside me. I suddenly saw with perfect clarity how my marriage had unraveled.
It wasn’t just my failures as a husband though there were many. It was this poisonous environment. My mother and Lucy, constantly whispering in my ear, turning me against Anna with their petty jealousies and social machinations. My own weakness in believing them, in not standing firm against the tide of Simpson family arrogance.
*No wonder she left. No wonder she found someone stronger.*
"If you provoke the Shaw family again and they retaliate," I said quietly, "I won’t intervene."
Mother’s mouth fell open in shock.
"You would side with them over your own family?"
I didn’t answer. There was nothing left to say. As I turned to leave, I paused at the door.
"Mother, please, show some dignity."
I didn’t go upstairs to my room.
Instead, I walked straight back through the front door, desperate for fresh air that wasn’t contaminated by hatred and bitterness.