Saving The Single Mom

CHAPTER 1

Shawna

"Oh, good Lord." I rub my forehead as I lean on top of the kitchen table—files of bills spread out in front of me. I've stared at them for almost an hour now. 

The reality of my predicament is slowly sinking into me. These last few days, I've worked on autopilot, prolonging the inevitable. But, nope, nothing can change the fact I'm broke, and I don't have enough money to pay for the bills. Not thinking about it can't deny the creditors about to knock on the door. 

If only my husband was here! Oh, Lawrence!

My husband died two years ago, leaving me to raise our son alone and with nothing. Not like that’s his fault but it doesn’t change how hard things are. Even the house isn't ours, and there aren’t any savings to fall back on because even when he was alive, we were only able to make ends meet with nothing to spare.

But, we were happy; Lord, were we happy. We were content even though we lived from day to day. Before, even if something like this happened, it was still bearable with him by my side. There was no reason for me to cry. 

"Oh, Lawrence." I grab my hair in frustration, dropping my head into my hands, and biting my lips as I stare at the papers. I close my eyes, taking deep, calming breaths to help me relax. Perhaps, I can think better if I do this. 

But it only serves to make me more aware of my reality—my family's reality, to be exact. My eyes open, and I stand up abruptly causing the chair to fall over, but I don't care. I run to my son's room like a maniac. 

Frantic and crazy to the point that I'd rather die than lose my son, I push the door to his room open, to find him sleeping deeply in his bed. 

Trey's face in sleep looks so much like my Lawrence. He's his father's double for sure. My baby's sleeping like an angel, which to me, he is. My angel and my life. 

I caress his face, and the tears just won't stop. It falls on his smooth skin, and his forehead scrunches at the wet drop. 

"Oh, baby..." I kiss his forehead, and he turns his body in my direction, seeking my warmth. His little head moves toward me. 

What am I going to do without you, my love? 

I choke back a sob, my shoulders shake along with my emotions. Time is fleeting, and this might be one of the last precious moments I'll spend with my son. 

My little boy… he has cancer; leukemia, to be exact. And I don't have the money to pay for his medical bills! I can't bring him to a top hospital and let a specialist see him. 

Our lack of money is suffocating me and killing my son. If only... 

I have so many of them. 

Actually, Lawrence comes from a wealthy family. Old money, as people say. He’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. If he had married an heiress, Trey would have been raised like that, too. 

But I guess that’s another one of my failings. I should have worked harder, become a better woman for Lawrence so his family would accept his choice.

The hard truth is, no matter how hard I work, I will never be like those jet-setting heiresses. I don't have the capital nor the background. 

I squeeze my eyes shut as I try not to think about the past. Lawrence, Trey, and I were destitute but happy, even if being able to eat three times a day was a luxury.

But, right now, I barely have anything to feed my son. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

Trey should have a better life. Lawrence should be alive. He should have married a rich heiress and driven a Lamborghini. He should be sitting in his office on the 35th floor of Flint Industries. 

But he's dead. He’s gone forever.

All because Lawrence chose me over his family and his inheritance. He picked me instead of power, influence, and money. 

He chose love. And I love him more for that. 

Lawrence was never the type to value money. He was sweet, kind, caring, and didn't care about financial things at all. He didn't marry his supposed fiancée for me, even though doing so would have doubled his family’s wealth and social standing.

His parents never accepted me, so he left, and they cut him off. Even when he died, none of them showed themselves at the funeral. 

I try not to resent them for that. But, God, do I hate those people! 

At the end of the day, what can my hate do? Can it feed my son? Can it cure his leukemia? 

Money is what I need, and Lawrence's parents have that in abundance. Billions they can spend on Trey's medical expenses, without even making a dent in their fortune.

My shoulders won't stop shaking as I sob harder. I can no longer stifle the sound, so I choose to leave Trey's room for fear I'll wake him. 

I slump against the closed door, sliding into the floor as I give into my tears. I'm crying for everything I’ve lost and don't have. I'm crying for everything I'm about to lose, as well. 

Trey... I might lose him. Either through leukemia or to Lawrence's parents. A week ago, I reached out to them, in the naive expectation that, even though they’d disowned Lawrence, Trey is still their grandchild, and they would help. 

Oh, yes, they're willing to help alright. They're so fucking helpful – they’ll shoulder all expenses. They said money is no object and they’ll spare no expense. Isn't that perfect? 

I laugh as my tears flow and sadness overwhelms me. My laughter becomes louder. I'm feeling deranged and out of my wits.

Those bastards will help Trey... but with a delightful condition. They'll take my son from me, and I'll never see him again. 

No matter how I think about it, my heart still has the same answer. 

No amount of money is enough to pay me to give my son up. But... in exchange for his life? 

Practically speaking, I don't have a choice. 

I'm his mother. I'd rather lose him, knowing he’s alive and living his life, than have him die and not get to live at all.