My Boyfriend Won 5 Million

"Acacia, I got this special recipe from a healer. It's like magic! Mrs. Smith drank it, and within a few months, she was pregnant with a big, healthy boy. And Mrs. Smith isn't exactly young, you know!" Fred's mom, Dora, shuffled over with a steaming bowl of soup, setting it right in front of me.

Fred and I weren't married yet, but we'd been living together. He always promised he'd marry me as soon as I gave him a son.

It had been two years, and still nothing. My stomach stayed flat, and Dora was getting more impatient by the day.

"Maybe Fred should see a doctor. It's been two years and still no baby—maybe it's him who has the problem," I said, my stomach turning as the memories from before washed over me.

"What are you even talking about?" Dora snapped, slamming the bowl onto the table. She jabbed a finger in my face, furious. "I'm doing this for you! Don't you want to marry into this family? Let me tell you, Fred's perfectly fine. It's your belly that's the problem. Can't even give us a son!"

Seriously? Fred wouldn't marry me or even agree to get checked out. He just wanted to keep me around as his personal baby maker and unpaid housekeeper.

This family thought they had everything worked out, like their precious Fred was some kind of prize. How did I not see through this before?

But, of course, I couldn't say that to her face. The show had only just begun—I wasn't about to let it end early.

Dora kept going when I didn't respond. "You are so ungrateful! Are you even listening to me?"

Fred came over, trying to play peacemaker. "Mom, Acacia didn't mean to disrespect you. She's just not thinking straight—don't let it get to you."

He made it sound like everything was my fault. What a pair these two made.

Before I came back in time, I put up with all of this for a chance to marry Fred. I wore myself out working three jobs, then came home to cook, clean, and do laundry—even washing their underwear and socks.

And Dora? She'd complain about every meal I made, throw plates, and tell me to make something else. Fred never once defended me; he always sided with her.

"Acacia, don't make Mom upset. She's got heart problems, and she's just trying to do what's best for us," he'd say.

No, this was never my home—it was theirs. I was just a visitor who never belonged.

I grew up an orphan, raised in a foster home, with no real sense of family or love. I didn't know what it felt like to be loved until I met Fred.

He'd tell me to drink hot water when I had cramps, remind me to bundle up when it was cold, and promise to buy me cherries when he had money—though he never actually did. But even those empty words were enough to touch my heart.

Call it naive, but that was the old me—the one before I came back. I was so desperate for affection that a few crumbs from Fred were enough to reel me in, only to leave me empty-handed in the end.

This time, I'm not letting it slide. I need my revenge to finally get rid of this bitterness.

"You ungrateful brat, I'll teach you a lesson!" Dora screamed, eyes blazing with fury. She swung her hand at my face, but I caught her wrist in midair and slapped her back.

"Oops, my hand slipped," I said, calm as ever.

Fred and Dora just stood there, stunned at my sudden change.

I didn't give them the satisfaction of a reaction. I turned on my heel, walked into the bedroom, and locked the door behind me.

I knew them too well—they wouldn't kick me out just yet. I'd been their free maid for years, handling all the chores and bringing in money. Why would they give up such a convenient setup?