Her Halo Was My Money

The day I buried Arthur, I was barely holding it together.

Lillian showed up just in time, stepping in to handle everything.

That night, I found her crying alone. When I asked why, she finally cracked—said her husband had just beaten her.

The bruises were everywhere. I teared up just looking at her.

She'd just been through hell and still showed up for me. How was I supposed to ignore that?

I jumped into action. Collected every shred of evidence I could, hired the best lawyer money could buy, and made sure she had a fighting shot in court.

While the case dragged on, I let her crash at my place. I was scared her husband might come back for round two.

She was all thanks and sweetness—cooked, cleaned, kept the house running.

Even Arthur's parents, Bobby and Whitney—who had a complaint for everything—started singing her praises.

There was even that one time a dog came charging at them, and Lillian threw herself in the way. Landed in the hospital for days after the bite.

From then on, Bobby and Whitney treated her like the daughter they never had.

But then... things started getting weird.

Liam, deep in his rebel era, started turning to Lillian for heart-to-hearts. She even began showing up at his school events—in my place.

Next thing I knew, he ditched his grades, got starry-eyed over music, and swore he was destined to be famous.

Bobby and Whitney, who used to nitpick everything I did, started acting like I was invisible. Family dinners? Happening without me.

When I asked why, they gave me the classic "we didn't want to bother you while you heal" excuse.

I didn't want to jump to conclusions, so I stayed quiet.

Meanwhile, work at Vectorial Corp kept stacking up.

Lillian, all smiles, said she'd handle things "for now."

She had a solid résumé—worked at a few big-name firms, knew Vectorial Corp like the back of her hand. I figured, why not?

But Liam? He kept slipping further away. Weeks would pass without a single visit.

Even asking if he'd eaten was enough to make him slam the door in my face.

Then came the day I told Lillian to fix a botched project. Liam snapped.

He stormed in, grabbed a cup off the table, and chucked it straight at me.

"Mom's just trying to help you! You're nothing but a useless patient—who are you to blame her?"

Just like that, the switch was complete.

From "Ms. Pegg," to "Lillian," to "mom."

Bobby and Whitney decided I was the villain—cold, ungrateful, heartless.

Behind my back, they told people I'd killed Arthur and was clawing at the company for myself.

Then my ulcer came back with a vengeance. Blood, blackouts, black stools—the whole horror show.

They didn't care.

They locked me in my room. Said I was "faking it for attention" and refused to take me to the hospital.

That's when it hit me.

I'd been erased. Replaced. Lillian had my life.

I collapsed on the floor, bleeding out.

They covered it up as a "fire." Nice, clean little story to keep her hands spotless.

And Liam's words still echo in my head:

"You used your power to steal my mom's husband and ripped me away from her. You deserve this."

Drained. Burned.

It still feels like a nightmare I never woke up from.

But not for long.

This time, every ounce of pain they gave me? I'm handing it right back—double.