When Liv collapsed from a life-threatening infection, her sister swooped in to help with the kids. But three days later, the CPS appeared at her door with shocking allegations. The security footage would reveal a betrayal so calculated that even Liv couldn’t believe her own blood was capable of it.
I still can’t believe my own sister tried to destroy my life and nearly took my kids, all because of money.
I never thought I’d be writing this, but here we are.
I’m Liv, 29 years old, and I’m a single mom of two. Noah is five, and my newborn daughter, Hazel, just turned three months old.
Their dad, Eric, left me when I was five months pregnant with Hazel. He said he was “overwhelmed” and “needed space to find himself.”
Translation?
He found someone younger with no stretch marks, no morning sickness, and no responsibilities.
I was heartbroken when he walked out. I really was. But I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart.
I had two kids to feed, bills piling up on my kitchen counter, and a dad who was dying.
You see, my dad was in the final stages of heart failure. His body was giving out, and someone needed to be there for him.
That someone was me.
I was the one bathing him when he couldn’t stand on his own anymore. I was the one crushing his pills into applesauce because he couldn’t swallow them whole.
I was the one running between his house and mine while seven months pregnant, exhausted, and terrified I’d lose him before Hazel was born.
Oh, by the way, I’m not his only child. I have a 32-year-old sister, Hailey, who didn’t even bother visiting Dad. Not even once.
She always had plans like going to Vegas with her latest boyfriends and having bottomless brunches with her Instagram friends.
And of course, her endless shopping sprees.
When our mom died six years ago, Hailey blew through her entire inheritance in six months. Designer bags, expensive jewelry, VIP club tables, and what she called “spiritual retreats” that looked more like beach vacations.
Dad forgave her every single time. He’d shake his head and say, “She’ll grow up eventually, Liv.
She just needs to find herself.”
But this time, something changed. Dad had finally had enough.
Before he passed, he called me to his bedside. His voice was so weak I had to lean in close to hear him.
His hand felt thin in mine, and I remember thinking how unfair it was that someone so kind had to suffer so much.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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