Part 1The Golden Boy's Heir: How I Cut Ties With My Toxic Mother

My sister-in-law and I got pregnant around the same time.

While her pregnancy was perfectly normal, I was diagnosed with severe malnutrition due to extreme morning sickness.

I asked my mom to come stay with me and help out for just one month.

She refused repeatedly, even having the nerve to lecture me:

"Do you have any common sense? Why would I abandon the grandchild who is going to carry our family's last name, just to take care of a kid who won't? People would laugh at me."

Later, when I no longer needed her and used my own money to hire a professional maternity nurse, she threw a massive fit.

* * *

By my eighth week of pregnancy, my morning sickness was so severe that I dropped ten pounds in a single week.

Remembering that my mom had taken care of pregnant relatives before, including some with similar symptoms, I called her, hoping she could stay with me for a month.

But when I explained what I needed, she sounded put out.

"I don't have the time! Brittany is pregnant too, I can't just leave her."

Brittany was my younger brother's wife. She was currently four months along.

Ever since Brittany got pregnant, my mom went to her house every single day to cook organic bone broths, make pregnancy smoothies, and wait on her hand and foot.

Brittany was in great shape. She had almost no negative symptoms, her ultrasounds were perfect, and she was still going to the office every day.

"Well, could you just come during the day then? You don't have to stay long, even just around lunchtime would help."

We all lived in the same city, just a fifteen-minute drive apart.

"I told you, I don't have time. I have to go to Brittany's house to deep clean during the day," she said, her tone laced with impatience.

I looked at my pale, haggard reflection in the mirror and felt a surge of grievance. "Mom, I'm your daughter too. Why can't you care about me the way you care about Brittany?"

Silence hung on the other end of the line.

Then, I heard her take a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice was sharp and entirely foreign:

"Can you stop being such a brat? Do I have to spell it out for you? Brittany is carrying a Miller. She’s having the baby that will carry on our family name! Your kid is going to be a Davis. Why would I abandon my true legacy to take care of someone else's? People in our circle would think I'm crazy."

When I didn't say anything, she added, "Go call your mother-in-law. It's her job to take care of you anyway. That's how it works."

If her first words made my heart run cold, her last sentence plunged me into an icy abyss.

My grip on my phone tightened. I let out a dark, mocking laugh. "Mom... Ethan is from a blended family. His mother passed away when he was young. Did you... forget?"

Of course she forgot. Why would she remember?

Back when she was rushing to marry me off, constantly setting me up on blind dates, she only cared that Ethan had a "clean background and a lucrative career in tech." All she cared about was the massive wedding check she knew his family would write—money she could guilt me into handing over.

As for anything else about him, she didn't care enough to remember.

Sure enough, the atmosphere turned awkward, but my mom quickly recovered. "Well, then use your own money to hire a nanny! You and Ethan make six figures, you can easily afford it."

With that, she hung up.

I closed my eyes, the room spinning around me.