When Liv collapsed from a life-threatening infection, her sister swooped in to help with the kids. But three days later, the CPS appeared at her door with shocking allegations. The security footage would reveal a betrayal so calculated that even Liv couldn’t believe her own blood was capable of it.
I still can’t believe my own sister tried to destroy my life and nearly took my kids, all because of money.
I never thought I’d be writing this, but here we are.
I’m Liv, 29 years old, and I’m a single mom of two. Noah is five, and my newborn daughter, Hazel, just turned three months old.
Their dad, Eric, left me when I was five months pregnant with Hazel. He said he was “overwhelmed” and “needed space to find himself.”
Translation?
He found someone younger with no stretch marks, no morning sickness, and no responsibilities.
I was heartbroken when he walked out. I really was. But I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart.
I had two kids to feed, bills piling up on my kitchen counter, and a dad who was dying.
You see, my dad was in the final stages of heart failure. His body was giving out, and someone needed to be there for him.
That someone was me.
I was the one bathing him when he couldn’t stand on his own anymore. I was the one crushing his pills into applesauce because he couldn’t swallow them whole.
I was the one running between his house and mine while seven months pregnant, exhausted, and terrified I’d lose him before Hazel was born.
Oh, by the way, I’m not his only child. I have a 32-year-old sister, Hailey, who didn’t even bother visiting Dad. Not even once.
She always had plans like going to Vegas with her latest boyfriends and having bottomless brunches with her Instagram friends.
And of course, her endless shopping sprees.
When our mom died six years ago, Hailey blew through her entire inheritance in six months. Designer bags, expensive jewelry, VIP club tables, and what she called “spiritual retreats” that looked more like beach vacations.
Dad forgave her every single time. He’d shake his head and say, “She’ll grow up eventually, Liv.
She just needs to find herself.”
But this time, something changed. Dad had finally had enough.
Before he passed, he called me to his bedside. His voice was so weak I had to lean in close to hear him.
His hand felt thin in mine, and I remember thinking how unfair it was that someone so kind had to suffer so much.
“Liv,” he whispered, his eyes watery but focused. “You’ve always been the one who showed up. You’ve given me more love in these last few months than I deserve.
I can’t repay you for that, but I can make sure Noah has a future.”
I thought he meant something symbolic, like a blessing or a memory. But a week after the funeral, the lawyer called me into his office, and I found out what Dad really meant.
He’d left almost everything to Noah. A trust fund of nearly $200,000.
I sat in that leather chair, staring at the paperwork, and I cried because it felt like Dad was still taking care of us even after he was gone.
At that point, I thought Hailey would understand when she would learn about it.
I thought she’d see it the way I did, that Dad wanted to help the grandchild he’d grown to love.
But she didn’t.
When Hailey found out about the trust fund, she completely lost it.
“HE LEFT IT TO YOUR KID?!” she screamed over the phone. I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “He’s FIVE, Liv!
He doesn’t need money! I’m his DAUGHTER too! I’m his ACTUAL CHILD!”
“You never even called him, Hailey,” I reminded her gently.
“Not once in those last three months. He just wanted to take care of the one person who reminded him of kindness.”
She laughed. “You think you’re some kind of saint?
You’re a broke single mom with two brats and a crappy apartment. You’ll burn through that money before Noah’s even in first grade.”
“It’s in a trust,” I told her. “Neither of us can touch it.
It’s for his education, his future. That’s what Dad wanted.”
Her tone turned ice-cold. “We’ll see about that.”
I didn’t realize then that she meant it literally.
I didn’t know she was already planning something that would nearly destroy everything I had left.
A few weeks later, everything went downhill fast.
My pregnancy with Hazel had been rough from the start. I had preeclampsia, constant infections, and exhaustion that felt like it was crushing my bones.
After she was born, I thought things would get better, but they didn’t. I developed severe kidney complications that left me in constant pain, barely able to stand some days.
One morning, I was making breakfast for Noah when the room started spinning.
The next thing I knew, I was on the kitchen floor, and Noah was crying, holding Hazel’s bottle in his tiny hands.
“Mommy, wake up!” he kept saying, his voice shaking.
I managed to pull myself up, my head pounding. I knew I needed help. I swallowed my pride and called Hailey.
“Please,” I begged when she answered.
“Can you come help me for a few hours? I’m not feeling well, and I just need to rest.”
She sighed dramatically, like I’d asked her to donate a kidney. “Fine.
But you owe me, Liv.”
When she arrived thirty minutes later, I could barely stand. She walked through my apartment, waving her hand at the toys scattered on the floor and the dishes in the sink.
“Wow. Real cozy here, Liv,” she said, her voice dripping with judgment.
I ignored her tone.
I was too exhausted to fight. I showed her where the baby formula was, where Noah’s snacks were kept, and told her I just needed to lie down for a bit.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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