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Chapter 92
Chapter 8
Chapter 8
She froze. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“You don’t remember, do you p>
“Let me remind you. She was wearing a pink dress. The only new outfit you’d ever bought her. You told her she needed to look pretty because she was going to meet a ‘nice lady’ who’d take care of her p>
My voice was calm. But her body started trembling.
“You shoved her into that beat-up van, took the cash from the trafficker, and walked away. You didn’t look back. So you’ll never know how your daughter-your so-called ‘burden’ and ‘meal ticket’-pressed her face against that window, watching you disappear, sobbing like her world was
ending p>
“And you’ll definitely never know how close she came to dying on that empty dirt road p>
The courtroom went silent.
Even her lawyer looked uncomfortable.
During the recess, she cornered me in the hallway.
“Riley, you’re really going to destroy me like this? I gave birth to you p>
“You gave birth to me. And then what?” I stared at her. “You gave birth to me so you could use me as a tool? Sell me like merchandise p>
“That’s MY business! I’m your MOTHER! I can hit you, yell at you-it’s my RIGHT p>
“Your right?” I laughed. “Lady, this isn’t the 1800s. Today, I’m going to show you what the law says p>
The final ruling came down.
The court dismissed all of her claims.
The judge wrote in the decision:
“Monica Anson’s documented abuse and abandonment of Ms. Riley Nguyen constitute clear and irrefutable harm to her physical and mental well-being. She has forfeited any right to demand support from the plaintiff p>
When she read the verdict, she collapsed onto the floor.
She’d lost.
Yet she wasn’t done.
She started staging sit ins outside the courthouse, holding up signs that said the legal system was corrupt, that 1-a “hotshot lawyer”–had rigged the whole thing.
She wanted to use public pressure to force me into submission.
But this time, no one felt sorry for her.
People just walked around her like she was a piece of street trash.
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You Traded Our Son for Her? Your ‘Happy’ Ending Just Crashed, Asshole!
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Chapter 8
A few days later, she was arrested for disturbing the peace and held for fifteen days.
Those fifteen days broke her.
She’d already been in bad shape-years of irregular living, prison time, and now severe kidney disease that required regular dialysis.
While she was in custody, she missed two dialysis appointments.
By the time she got out, she was barely alive.
She was rushed to the hospital. The doctors issued a critical condition notice.
They couldn’t reach any of her relatives. Eventually, they called my law firm.
“Ms. Anson, your mother is in critical condition. She needs emergency surgery, or else p>
“I’m not her family,” I cut the doctor off. “You shouldn’t have my name listed as her next of kin p>
“But… she put you down p>
“That’s her problem.” I hung up.
Just then, Miles walked in.
“Sis, I took care of it. All that garbage online about her-it’s gone p>
He looked at me. “I got a call from the hospital too p>
“What do you think I should do?” I asked.
“I’m with you,” Miles said. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you p>
I sat in silence for a long time.
Finally, I stood up.
“Let’s go to the hospital p>
Miles blinked. “Sis, you p>
“I’m not going because I’m her daughter,” I said, every word deliberate.
“I’m going to tell her it’s over p>
When we arrived, she was in surgery.
Hours later, the doctor emerged, looking exhausted.
“The surgery was successful. She’s stable for now. But her kidney function is almost completely gone. She’ll need dialysis for the rest of her life p>
I stood outside the glass window, looking at her.
She was hooked up to a dozen machines, her face gray and hollow.
This was the woman who’d beaten me senseless. Who’d sold me to a trafficker. Who’d dragged me to court.
Chapter 8
And now she was lying here, silent and broken.
I didn’t go inside. I just stood there for a moment, then turned and left.
I paid for her surgery anonymously.
Not because I forgave her. Not because I pitied her.
I didn’t want her to die.
I wanted her to spend the rest of her days alone, in pain, tethered to a cold machine.
I wanted her to wake up every morning drowning in regret and despair.
That was my revenge.
A few days later, she woke up.
When she found out some “good Samaritan” had paid for her surgery, she cried tears of joy.
She thought she’d found another sucker. She started asking around, trying to find out who it was.
I had Miles deliver a message.
“That person said they only helped you so you could live long enough to pay for what you’ve done p>
She went rigid.
She finally understood.
The “good Samaritan” was me.
She tried to see me, but the hospital turned her away.
She started screaming in the halls, saying I was her daughter, that I was a terrible person.
But no one believed her anymore.
The nurses just looked at her like she was insane and sedated her.
Her life had been reduced to a hospital bed and a dialysis machine.
She would never get the chance to disrupt my life again.
From now on, I have a mom who loves me. A brother who looks out for me.
My life is full of sunlight and hope.
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Mark Twain