At 20, I became a mother overnight. My sister vanished, leaving her toddler with nothing but a cruel note: “Take care of him.” For 12 years, I raised Jake as my own. He stopped asking for his mom and started calling me “Mom” instead. We built a life together—just the two of us. Then, one morning, Olivia came back. Not to reunite. Not to apologize. She wanted money—her “share” of our father’s inheritance. When I refused, she coldly said Jake was “my choice” and demanded what she felt she was owed. So, I gave her an envelope—not of money, but every receipt, every dollar I’d spent raising her son. Furious, she stormed off. I made it official soon after—I adopted Jake. I told him the truth: that he wasn’t born to me, but he has always been mine. And when he asked if she ever asked about him, I had to say no.But I chose him. Every single day. And I always will.Her greatest mistake became the best thing that ever happened to me.
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