The Trials to Endure
Margaret Whitmore waited anxiously for her husband and son to return from their business trip. They had travelled to a neighbouring county to expand their company, opening a new branch there. Things had been going well for father and son, Henry. Their business was thriving.
Margaret was especially eager to see Henry again—she needed to tell him what she’d overheard from his wife, Laura, who was due to give birth any day now. It was no secret that Laura didn’t love Henry, but for the sake of their unborn grandchild, everyone tolerated it.
Margaret had caught Laura on the phone, whispering,
“I’ll give birth, take the baby, and disappear. I’ll grab what I can from the house and slip away—there’s plenty to take.”
Her first instinct was to call Henry, but she hesitated. He and her husband were in an important meeting—no need to disrupt them. She’d tell them when they got home.
“We’ll take the baby from the hospital. As for Laura, let her go—she doesn’t want the child anyway.”
When Laura went into labour, her husband and son were already on their way back. An ambulance rushed Laura to the hospital. Soon after, Margaret received a call—her husband and Henry had been in a car accident. Her husband died instantly. Henry lasted twenty minutes longer but whispered with his final breath:
“Don’t let her keep the baby.”
The investigator explained no child had been in the car. But Margaret murmured,
“My son’s wife just gave birth. That’s my grandson—they’re still at the hospital. Laura doesn’t want him. That’s why he said what he did.”
She didn’t expect to ever see her grandson, but she brought Laura home from the hospital herself. How she endured it, she didn’t know. Her one support was Arthur, a close friend to both her husband and son, who worked as their company’s financial officer. He handled everything—the funeral, the arrangements, even ensuring a doctor stayed by Margaret’s side.
He also brought Laura and little Oliver home from the hospital. After her husband’s death, Laura lingered in the large family home. Margaret hired a nanny, unable to care for the baby alone while managing the company’s affairs. The business would soon be hers—legalities had long been settled—but for now, Arthur took charge. She trusted him completely.
Laura barely paid Oliver any attention, often vanishing for days. Then, six months later, she took him and disappeared, stealing money she’d found in her father-in-law’s desk. The safe, with its unknown code, remained untouched.
Margaret was devastated, losing her only connection to her son. But soon, Laura returned.
“You owe me money. And the company shares—everything I’m entitled to after my husband’s death. Otherwise, you’ll never see Oliver again. I’ll put him in an orphanage, and you’ll never find him.”
Margaret gave her everything—legally, even more. She even handed over personal jewellery Laura demanded.
“Laura, please, just let me see Oliver.”
Laura promised but never kept her word.
Time passed. Margaret gradually regained control of the business, with Arthur as her right-hand man—honest, reliable. But the ache of missing Oliver never faded.
Arthur suggested reporting Laura to the police.
“Margaret, I know a detective—let’s go straight to him.”
She agreed.
The detective soon found Laura tangled with shady characters. She’d given them company shares in exchange for a promised home but was left in a ramshackle hut. Duped and abandoned, she drowned in drink, neglecting Oliver. Then one of her drinking pals issued an ultimatum:
“Choose—me or the boy.”
She chose him. Together, they drove Oliver into the woods and left him. The detective learned all this when tracing the men attempting to sell the stolen shares. Laura confessed where she’d abandoned her son—but he was gone. A search was launched, but he was never found. Laura was arrested.
***
Emily had grown up in an orphanage. When it was time to start her own life, she chose a quiet village not far from the city. Given a small cottage, she was overjoyed.
“It’s not new, but it’s sturdy. I’ll make it cosy—I’ve dreamed of this since I was little.”
She found work in the local canteen, fulfilling her childhood dream of cooking. Gradually, life settled. Her neighbour, Colin—a shy, kind man—helped with repairs. She didn’t think much of his attentions, but he admired her.
One day, foraging for mushrooms, Emily found a boy curled under a bush—dirty, exhausted.
“Sweetheart, wake up,” she murmured, brushing his cheek.
The child startled, crying as she lifted him.
“Shhh, I won’t hurt you. Let’s go home.”
He calmed, clinging to her. Back home, she bathed and fed him, then sent Colin for the medic.
“What’s your name?” she asked, but he stayed silent. “Alright, you’re Sam now, okay?”
Villagers soon heard of Sam, bringing milk, clothes—whatever they could spare. He hid behind Emily whenever adults approached. The medic assured her,
“He’s just weak. Feed him well; he’ll recover.”
Sam shadowed Emily everywhere. Then one day, he called her “Mum.” She wept. His first word.
“You’re my boy now. No one will ever hurt you.”
She delayed reporting him, wanting stability first—but social services arrived.
“We’ve had reports of a boy here. You have no legal claim.”
“But I love him! He’s bonded with me!”
“You’re young, unmarried—a child needs a family.”
Despite her pleas, Sam was taken, screaming as he clung to her.
Heartbroken, she turned to Colin.
“Help me adopt Sam! They won’t let me alone—they want a family.”
Confused, he asked, “What can I do?”
“Marry me. Just to get him back. I swear I won’t ask anything else.”
Colin smiled. “Emily… I’d be glad to. I’ve wanted to ask you myself—I just didn’t dare. I care for Sam too.”
Overjoyed, they wed. Months later, returning to the orphanage, Sam sprinted into their arms.
“Sam, we’re taking you home!”
“Yes! I waited for you, Mum!”
Years passed. Sam, now a bright teenager, excelled in school, even winning a maths competition televised nationally. His parents swelled with pride.
***
One day, a sleek car pulled up outside Emily’s home. A polished woman stepped out—Margaret Whitmore.
“Emily? May we talk? I mean no harm.”
“It’s about Sam, isn’t it?”
Margaret nodded. “I won’t take him. But I’m his grandmother—Oliver’s grandmother.”
Inside, Margaret showed a photo of her late son. The resemblance was uncanny.
“I saw Sam on TV, then in the papers. I had to find you.”
“Why didn’t anyone look for him?” Emily asked.
Margaret shared the tragic tale—the accident, Laura’s betrayal.
“Laura’s in prison now. We searched, but…”
Sam walked in later, wary at first—but something in Margaret’s warmth reached him.
“Meet your grandmother, Sam.”
By New Year’s, Margaret was part of the family, bearing gifts and news:
“The business will be Sam’s one day. But first, university.” She smiled. “And I’ve bought land nearby. We’ll build a proper family home—warm, bright. Our legacy.”
Around the table, applause rang out—joyful, united.
