My Husband’s Son Dreams of a Family Portrait Without Me

Kerry’s POV

I covered my face, the sting burning hot.

“Didn’t you see she did that on purpose?” I demanded.

Hurley’s brows knitted, his voice sharp with displeasure.

“What I saw was you refusing to take it—deliberately trying to embarrass Liv. Kerry, can’t you stop doing shit for once? Can’t you learn from Liv’s generosity and grace? She never competes with other women like you do!”

Even Cronan’s face darkened. He picked up his bowl and flung the cheesy soup at me.

“If someone dumps soup on you, then just suck it up! You’re no match for Auntie Liv in anything, anyway! On top of that, you’re so petty!”

The scalding broth splashed across my face, searing my skin until my scalp prickled with pain. I wiped at my cheeks, my gaze flicking first to Liv’s triumphant expression, then to Hurley and Cronan’s disapproving faces.

Ever since Liv appeared, they had been comparing me to her at every turn.

The anger I’d been suppressing finally broke free.

With a sharp motion, I knocked over Liv’s bowl. Hot soup spilled everywhere, splashing onto all three of them. They flinched at the burn, their brows creasing instinctively.

Hurley’s expression hardened, his voice cold as steel as he reprimanded me. “If you want to lose your damn mind, do it outside. This isn’t a mental asylum!”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Isn’t it? This place is worse than one.”

Because what could be more terrifying? Hurley and his son are enjoying my devotion while exalting another woman above me, trampling me beneath their feet.

And since I was leaving anyway, I saw no reason to hold back anymore.

I smashed everything in the kitchen: the fridge, the cheerful dishes and bowls I’d chosen so carefully, the microwave, all the appliances and utensils I’d picked out and bought thoughtfully.

Each crash shattered not only the items, but the expectations I once held for this family.

Immediately, Hurley and his son shielded Liv behind them.

“She’s lost it. Don’t let her hurt you.”

My movements slowed. Suddenly, it all felt meaningless, so I stopped.

Hurley stared at me with a look of exasperated contempt.

“Are you done now? If so, clean this mess up. You broke Liv’s bowl. Buy her the same one."

His words dripped with scorn. “Every time something doesn’t go your way, you cause a scene. How can you be so petty? I really don’t know what we ever did to you to ruin a perfectly good home like this.”

Cronan shot me a look of disdain, chiming in, “Any time we tell you the truth, you go crazy. People like you… There’s no way to talk sense.” He turned to Liv, saying, “Auntie Liv, let her sulk by herself. Let’s go.”

And with that, the two of them took Liv by the hand and left.

But not before she turned back, her eyes glinted with ridicule.

I didn’t bother cleaning up the wreckage. Instead, I went upstairs and began to pack.

After all these years in that house, I had little to call my own. One suitcase was enough.

The only other thing I couldn’t leave behind was Buddy, my old golden dog who had stayed by my side for more than a decade.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

It was a message from Hurley.

[You went too far today. Liv’s been wanting a bracelet lately. Go buy one for her and apologize.]

Attached was a photo of the jewelry.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I deleted him from my contacts.

That night, none of them came home.

But early the next morning, Hurley brought Willa over.

The moment they stepped inside, he spoke in a grave voice,

“Mom, Kerry’s just been too idle lately. She keeps making trouble. Please talk some sense into her.”

As always. Every time I dared show even a hint of resistance, Hurley would call my foster mother to pressure me into submission.

But what he didn’t know was that this time, she hadn’t come to persuade me.

The truth was, she had come to deliver divorce papers.