After rebirth, I watched my
ungrateful stepdaughter fall
My daughter, Brittany, got a full ride to Yale,
and the first thing she did was announce she
wanted nothing to do with me.
“You’re not my real mom, anyway,” she
sneered.
“You’re just the homewrecker who stole my
dad from my mom.”
I got booted from her graduation party, and I
was wandering around in a daze when a car
slammed into me.
Join the bookshelf
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Lying there, bleeding out, I heard her talking
to her dad.
“Don’t call 911,” she said, all cold and
calculating.
“She’s worth more to us dead. We can sue for
a fortune.”
Then…nothing.
Until I woke up, back in time, the year
Brittany finished middle school.
Chapter 1
It was my stepdaughter’s big night.
<
All our relatives and friends were showering
us with congratulations.
Brittany, in her new dress, was wearing that trademark sneer, eyes rolling at me like I was the biggest loser she knew.
“You only care about my success because you’re a nobody,” she muttered, loud enough for me to hear, of course.
“Just wait, I’ll flunk out of high school on purpose. See how Dad likes that.”
The casual cruelty of it hit me like a punch.
The image of my broken body on the
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pavement flashed in my mind.
A wave of pure, unadulterated rage washed
over me.
Aunt Carol, Dad’s sister, noticed my spaced-
out look and chimed in.
“Now, Sarah, high school is the big leagues,”
she said, all knowing.
“You can’t let up on Brittany. We’re counting on you to make sure she gets into Harvard.
“You practically need to live at the school for the next four years!”
<
Before I could even open my mouth, Brittany
was snapping at her aunt.
“Mind your own business, Aunt Carol,” she
said, totally disrespectful.
“I don’t need her hovering over me.
“I’m going to live in the dorm, and I don’t want her anywhere near me, got it?”
Aunt Carol shot her a look, like, *don’t bite the hand that feeds you*, before turning back
to me, clearly expecting me to step in.
“She’s not my mom!” Brittany barked,
correcting her aunt.
L
“She’s just some woman who broke up my
parents‘ marriage.
“My *real* mom is Michelle, not her!”
The room went silent, everyone staring.
Curiosity, pity, and a whole lot of judgment
filled their eyes.
But no one, *not a single person*, dared to
scold Brittany, the straight–A student.
My sister–in–law, Aunt Carol, had this weirdly satisfied look on her face, like she was
watching a reality show and waiting for the
drama to unfold
<
drama to unfold.
I knew why.
She and Brittany’s mom, Michelle, were
besties.
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