The Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 342

Chapter 342 Not Her Problem to Carry

Chapter 342 Not Her Problem to Carry

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Was it worth making an enemy of a shipping giant over some kid who had nothing to do with her?

The words hit Paul like a bucket of ice water. His small body shook harder.

NovaSea Transport. He’d heard of them. Massive company.

Elizabeth’s farm had already been stranded here once because a shipping company pulled out. And now… now this was his fault. All of it. He couldn’t let Elizabeth take the fall for him.

“Ms. Elizabeth, I…” He wriggled out of Desmond’s protective figure and stepped forward, arms spread in a helpless, placating gesture toward the woman and her son.

“Paul!” A woman’s voice cut through the air, raw with fear and grief.

Paul’s mother, Abigail Turner, came running from the direction of the residential zone, breathless and frantic. She’d been exiled to Planet A001 after a mental power collapse, but months of careful treatment on the farm had done her wonders. Her mind was clearer now, her bearing gentler. None of that steadiness was anywhere on her face at the moment.

She’d heard the commotion. She could see the blood on Paul’s hands, the tears streaking his cheeks, and she’d caught enough of the woman’s words to understand exactly what was happening. The color drained from her face.

She reached them just as Paul started to step forward, took one look at the rich woman, Claire Rhodes, standing there radiating contempt, and pushed straight past her son to face her directly, hands clasped, voice breaking.

“Ms. Rhodes, please. This is all my fault, every bit of it. Please, I’m begging you, let Paul go, leave the farm out of it. He’s just a child, he didn’t know better. I’ll make it right, whatever it takes. Just don’t take it out on Ms. Schofield. Don’t take it out on the farm. If someone has to answer for this, it’s me.”

The people watching shifted uncomfortably. This woman clearly knew who Claire was, and she was clearly terrified of her.

Claire, for her part, felt a deep, ugly satisfaction bloom in her chest at the sight. This woman, pleading and desperate, the same woman who had once made her seethe with fury, now stood there with clasped hands and a breaking voice, begging for mercy.

She let herself enjoy it, already reaching for the words that would make the moment even further, something crueler, something that would really land.

“Fiona.”

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11:08 Sat, Jun 6

Chapter 342 Not Her Problem to Carry

Elizabeth’s voice was quiet and completely level. It stopped Claire cold.

Everyone turned. Abigail stopped mid–plea. Paul froze where he stood.

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Elizabeth wasn’t looking at either of them. She wasn’t looking at Claire’s triumphant expression or at the woman weeping in the dirt. She was looking at Fiona, who had appeared at her side at some point, and when she spoke, her voice carried the kind of calm that left no room for argument.

“Make a note of this. NovaSea Transport, along with all affiliated companies, major shareholders, executives, and their immediate families, is hereby blacklisted from the farm. Effective immediately.”

Fiona nodded and pulled out her terminal. “Yes, ma’am.”

Silence. The kind that felt like the air had been sucked out of everything. Somewhere in the distance, wind moved through the crop rows with a dry rustle. Closer in, someone inhaled sharply and couldn’t quite hide it.

The smile on Claire’s face didn’t fade so much as shatter. She stared at Elizabeth as she’d just watched someone walk off a roof.

“You…” Her voice came out wrong. “What did you just say?”

Elizabeth turned to look at her, slowly, unhurried. Her expression was perfectly still, but there was a weight behind her eyes that made the air feel heavier.

“I said you’re blacklisted.”

“How dare you?” The composure Claire had been wearing cracked open completely. She was shaking, her voice climbing toward a shriek. “Do you have any idea what NovaSea Transport is? You think you can blacklist us? I’ll make sure nothing from this pathetic little farm ever leaves Planet A001. Every last thing you grow will rot in the ground. I’ll bury you.”

Elizabeth looked at her for a moment. Then, very slowly, the corner of her mouth curved. It wasn’t a warm smile. It was thin and cold and carried about as much sympathy as a closing door.

“NovaSea Transport.” She said the name like she was testing how much it actually weighed. “Cut off my shipping routes. Let my crops rot.” She paused. “That’s really what you think is going to happen.”

She raised one hand and gestured toward the entrance of the farm, where the temporary landing area was packed with private vessels, their insignias marking some of the more recognizable family names among that day’s visitors.

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