After Raising an Ungrateful Son, I Gave Everything to My Daughter

I carefully helped Madge put on the Heirloom Locket, but before I could fasten the clasp, a figure came rushing out of nowhere and snatched the gold locket right out of my hands.

"Something this nice—why should she get it?"

I stood frozen, staring blankly at the woman across from me, dressed to the nines. Four months pregnant, and Meryl was still teetering on four-inch stilettos.

"What are you doing here? Give that back!" Madge snapped, unable to contain her fury. She lunged forward to grab the locket back.

But James, who had strolled in behind Meryl without a care in the world, seized Madge by the wrist and yanked her aside.

"My dear little sister, have you no shame at all? You're about to become an aunt, and here you are fighting your own nephew for a trinket. Honestly, I'm embarrassed for you."

Meryl clutched the gold locket tight, her face twisted into a smug, insufferable grin.

"Exactly, Madge. You're a girl—sooner or later you'll marry into someone else's family. What's the point of you wearing a gold locket this valuable? It's a waste, plain and simple."

"Your brother already told me—this is the most precious heirloom the Sullivan family owns. It should go to the baby in my belly. That's what you call returning something to its rightful owner."

Madge's face had gone pale. James's grip had left her wrist red and raw, but he showed no sign of letting up.

"Come on, sis. Snatching things from your sister-in-law isn't a good look. Go ahead—apologize to her."

At those words, Madge turned to stare at him. Her eyes brimmed with hurt and disbelief.

Meryl was already basking in her victory, certain the locket was hers.

I looked up, a cold, derisive smile cutting across my face. My gaze could have frozen steel.

"Since when does an outsider get to decide what happens to Sullivan family heirlooms?"

"Madge is my precious daughter. Whether she marries, whether she wears the locket—that has absolutely nothing to do with you or whatever's in your belly."

"Hand the locket back. Now. Otherwise, I'll report you for robbery in broad daylight. You're not stupid—you know that unlawful possession of someone else's property over a certain value is a criminal offense. That means prison time."

Before I even finished, Meryl dropped her head and began to sniffle. Within seconds she was sobbing like her heart had shattered, throwing herself into James's arms.

"Honey, even if Mom doesn't like me, does she really have to threaten me like this? I'm carrying a Sullivan baby! Even if I'm too clumsy with words to win her over, the child is innocent, isn't it?"

James's brow furrowed with concern. He reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Don't be scared. I'm here. Nobody's going to touch a hair on your head."

That only made Meryl cry harder. Eyes rimmed red, she pressed the gold locket back into James's hand, her voice small and trembling with practiced grief.

"Take it back. I know I come from nothing. I'm not good enough for you, and I'm not good enough for the Sullivan family. Tomorrow, take me to the hospital and I'll get rid of the baby. Then we'll go straight to the courthouse and file for divorce."

She lowered her lashes, dabbing at her tears with the meekness of a saint. "Honey, I love you too much. I can't stand watching you fight with your mother over me. Just marry someone she approves of and live a good life. Don't worry about me. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters."

There was an old saying: a woman's tears, wielded just right, could break any man's resolve.

A pushover like James never stood a chance against a master manipulator like Meryl.

The next second, he grabbed the gold locket and hurled it to the ground with all his strength. His eyes bulged with rage as he whipped around and screamed at me.

"Is that what you want, Mom? You won't stop until you've driven Meryl away? If anything—anything—happens to her or the baby, you're a murderer! I will never forgive you for the rest of my life!"

James stormed off with Meryl on his arm, still ranting about how I always played favorites.