My Mother’s Name is Margarette

Ezail’s body froze, and he hesitated as he looked at me. Then, Holley appeared from behind him, pretending to be surprised when she saw me. “Oh, Marla, you’re here too?” she said, her voice innocent, but her eyes filled with mischief.

“Didn’t Mom tell you to leave the Gregory family? What are you still doing here?”

Her words, though sweet on the surface, were full of hidden triumph. She was clearly enjoying herself.

Without missing a beat, she intertwined her fingers with Ezail’s, as if to show me he belonged to her.

“I only joked with him about pretending to be pitiful to trick you, and he actually did it!” she said with a laugh, even though Ezail’s face was tense.

Holley looked me up and down, her amusement growing. “You didn’t actually believe him, did you?” she asked, her tone mocking.

Standing together, they looked like a perfect couple, the kind anyone would admire. And I… I had been the fool, chasing after them like a dog.

The room felt cold, the hotel’s air conditioning chilling me to the bone. But it wasn’t just the temperature—it was the betrayal freezing my heart.

I glanced at Ezail one last time, my fists loosening as I gave up on finding an answer.

The truth was already clear. To people like them, I was nothing more than a toy, someone to entertain them when they were bored.

Holley’s voice turned sharp.

“Even if you’re part of the Gregory family now, you’re still nothing more than a servant’s child. You’re uncultured, unworthy.”

“Mom and Dad love me more. I’m the real treasure of the Gregory family.”

Even though I had been taken back by my biological parents, I was only a tool for their plans, nothing more. Holley, the daughter they had raised, was the one they truly cherished.

They never gave me a penny, and Holley keeping Ezail around only made things worse for me.

She raised her hand, showing off a flashy ring on her finger, her eyes daring me to react.

“We’re getting married soon. Try not to be too jealous, sis.”

I had heard enough. I turned to leave, but Holley’s voice stopped me again.

“How is Margarette these days?” she asked with a twisted smile. “I bet she’s suffering.”

I froze, my back to her. Margarette, my adoptive mother, was also Holley’s biological mother.

“She’s dead,” I said quietly, my voice strained.

“She passed away three years ago.”

I didn’t look back as I left. The last thing I wanted was to talk about Margarette.

Despite her gentle name, Margarette had been anything but kind. She controlled every part of my life—forcing me to practice piano, attend dance lessons, and keep up with school. If I slipped up, I was locked away in a dark room.

When I found out she wasn’t my real mother, my resentment only grew.

I hated her for stealing my childhood, for shaping my life into something I didn’t want. She never showed me the love I craved, never gave me the praise I needed.

Meanwhile, Holley, her real daughter, had lived freely, enjoying the life I had been denied.

Furious, I stormed back into the hotel. I ignored Holley’s smug look and Ezail’s hesitant expression.

“Marla…” I heard him call, but I pretended not to hear.

I grabbed a bottle of red wine from the counter and smashed it on the floor, kicking over the champagne glasses next to it.

As the sound of breaking glass filled the room, I shouted,

“You’re the heir to the Ford family, right? And you, Holley, are the precious daughter of the Gregory family, aren’t you?”

“Was it fun pretending to have amnesia? Did you enjoy playing with my feelings?”

“You two deserve each other—you’re both scum!”

With tears streaming down my face, I pointed at them, my voice breaking.

“You promised to take care of me, didn’t you? Well, pay up! Now!”

I wiped my face, smirked through the tears,I raised my middle finger at them both before slamming the door behind me.