I Stopped My Kind Son From Being Framed Chapter 01

I Stopped My Kind Son From Being Framed Chapter 01

On freshman move-in day, a fragile-looking freshman begged my son to carry her massive suitcase up to her sixth-floor dorm room.

In my past life, I had always raised my son to be helpful, so I told him to go ahead and give her a hand.

The moment he dropped the luggage off, she rushed straight to the Office of Student Affairs, tearfully claiming that my son had trapped her in a blind spot in the stairwell and tried to harass her.

The day the disciplinary action was handed down, my son’s title as a high school Valedictorian and National Merit Scholar became a viral joke, mocked by the entire internet.

Unable to handle the relentless public shaming and relentless public ridicule, the pressure became too much for him, and we lost him.

The sheer grief aged my husband a decade overnight, and he died in a car crash on his way to demand answers from the university.

Meanwhile, she used her status as a victim to secure a full four-year financial aid package and a full ride to grad school.

During her speech as the student representative at the alumni gala, she looked straight at me, weeping in the crowd, and flashed a subtle smile.

“Ma’am, some pain is just a stepping stone on the path to growth, isn’t it?”

Now, in this second chance at life, Chloe Jenkins stood before us, her eyes welling with tears as she pointed at her giant suitcase.

“Ma’am, I really can’t lift this. Could he please help me out?”

I held Ethan Miller’s hand, my face completely expressionless.

“Oh, moving luggage? You can pay one of the campus staff twenty dollars to do it.”

…

Chloe froze.

She clearly hadn’t expected me to shut her down so ruthlessly.

“Ma’am…”

“I’m totally broke, and I have nothing left after tuition. Twenty dollars is a whole week’s worth of groceries for me.”

She raised her hand and wiped away a tear.

“I didn’t mean to be a burden. But I’m all by myself…”

Her crying was incredibly piercing, instantly drawing a crowd around us.

A guy in a designer tee stepped forward, glaring at me.

“Ma’am, aren’t you being a bit cold-hearted? We’re all students here. What’s wrong with a guy helping a girl carry her bags?”

An older woman nearby immediately chimed in.

“Exactly. Look how upset the poor girl is. You people look like you’ve got plenty of money, yet you don’t have an ounce of compassion.”

“Rich people these days are just so selfish.”

Whispers of judgment rippled through the crowd.

Chloe kept her head down, her shoulders shaking even harder.

Ethan took a step forward, wanting to speak up.

I raised my hand to stop him and looked directly at the guy in the brand-name shirt.

“You think she’s pitiful?”

The guy puffed out his chest. “Of course! Helping the underprivileged is basic decency.”

I nodded.

“Great. Then you carry it up to the sixth floor for her.”

The guy blinked, glancing at the massive suitcase. His expression turned awkward.

“I just finished playing basketball. My wrist hurts. Besides, she asked your son, not me.”

I smiled and turned toward the older woman.

“Ma’am, since your heart is bleeding so much, why don’t you foot the bill for her TaskRabbit? Twenty dollars to buy yourself a reputation as a saint. Quite a bargain.”

The woman’s face stiffened, and she took a step back.

“Are you out of your mind? She’s a stranger, why should I pay for her?”

The crowd went dead silent.

I looked back at Chloe.

“Hear that? Everyone pities you, but nobody wants to lift a finger or spend a dime.”

Chloe’s face flushed red, then turned pale.

“Ma’am, why do you have to humiliate me like this? Just because I’m poor?”

I stared into her eyes, my voice dropping dangerously low.

“Being broke doesn’t give you a free pass.”

“Does being poor mean the whole world owes you? Does it mean you get to exploit other people’s time and labor for free?”

“My son is a National Merit Scholar, not your free handyman.”

“Ethan, let’s go.”

I grabbed Ethan’s hand and walked away without looking back.

Once we were far enough, Ethan asked in a low voice, “Mom, was that really okay? She’s a fellow student after all.”

I stopped and looked at my sweet boy, who had been driven to jump off a building in our past life.

“Remember this. Never hand out your sympathy blindly.”

He nodded, only half-understanding.

“Whatever you say, Mom.”