When my parents divorced, they both fought over my little sister and wanted nothing to do with me.
In the end, I was assigned to my dad.
My mom held my sister’s hand and watched gleefully as my dad slapped me. “Hit her harder! If you beat her to death, you won’t have to raise her anymore. How convenient!”
My stepmother, who had just walked in, picked me up. “I’m your mom from now on. Got it?”
Later, I bought my stepmother a mansion and a luxury car. Then my biological mother, who’d been nowhere to be seen for years, lay in a hospital bed crying to me and begging me to save her.
I smiled and pried her fingers off my hand. “You can go ahead and die in peace.”
