Chapter 2
The party was set for 10 a.m., two days later.
That morning, I arrived at the restaurant early. Checked the menu, reviewed the schedule, confirmed every last detail.
Most of the guests were from the Taylor family.
No one from my side showed up.
Years ago, when I insisted on raising Ryan and Vivian’s illegitimate children, my parents were
furious–nearly hospitalized from the stress.
Even now, they couldn’t understand why I’d ruin my own life raising someone else’s children.
Ryan’s parents arrived, helped along by relatives.
They walked straight to the head table and sat down like they owned the place.
Ryan’s brother and sister came in next, flanked by their families, and filled the seats around the
main table.
Eight seats.
Every one of them taken.
The whole table clustered around my boys.
And me? I didn’t even have a seat.
“Vanessa, what are you spacing out for? Go pour Mom and Dad some water,” Amanda said, tossing sunflower seeds into her mouth as she cast me a mocking glance.
Amanda–Ryan’s sister. She married disastrously. Her husband beat her, and his family hated her
for not giving him a son.
At forty, she finally had one after three pregnancies, and now she strutted like a queen, her spine straightened by false pride.
My two sons tried to get up to help me, but Ryan’s parents quickly pushed them back into their
seats.
“My sweet boys, come sit with Grandma. Let’s chat,” my mother–in–law cooed.
“Just look at you–so handsome. Just like your father.”
“I think they look more like Vivian,” Ryan’s brother muttered.
That earned him a death glare from his parents. He shrank back, instantly silenced.
Chapter 2
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I circled the main table like a server. Pouring tea, filling glasses.
Until finally, my sons had had enough. They pulled over an extra chair, wedged it between theirs and made me sit down.
“Mom, it’s our birthday, but it’s your day too. You’ve been through so much for us. Sit and rest.”
Their words made the entire table freeze.
Amanda gave a snort, a smirk playing on her lips.
“If my brother knew how well you raised his sons, he’d probably die happy all over again.”
“Ahem,” my father–in–law coughed twice. Amanda shut her mouth.
“Vanessa,” my mother–in–law suddenly said, smiling too sweetly. “Today’s a good day, and I just wanted to have a little chat with you.”
I smiled back politely. “Go ahead.”
“Well, now that Liam and Ben are heading off to college, that big three–bedroom apartment must feel pretty empty.”
“Once they leave, your father–in–law and I can move in. I’ll cook, clean, help out while you’re at work. Sound good?”
There it was.
Their true agenda.
That apartment–my parents had paid the down payment. It was originally meant to have both my name and Ryan’s on the deed.
But just six months after our wedding, he took Vivian out for a joyride and died in a car crash.
All that came back was a box of ashes.
My parents, heartbroken for me, helped me pay off the rest of the mortgage. In the end, the apartment was solely in my name.
Now that the boys were grown, my in–laws were finally eyeing it like it belonged to them.
I set my cup down.
“Mom, it’s not that I don’t want to let you stay–but Liam and Ben are planning to study abroad.”
“So I’ve sold the apartment. I’m buying a one–bedroom. The rest of the money’s going toward their tuition.”
My father–in–law’s face darkened. He slammed his hand on the table.
Chanter ?
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“You’re still a Taylor! How could you make such a decision without consulting the family?”
I blinked at him, calm as ever.
“I did it for Ryan’s children. Isn’t that what you would’ve wanted?”
His eyes narrowed. “And the money? Give it to your mother to hold. You’re reckless. I don’t trust
you with it.”
On any other day, if I said I was selling the apartment for the boys‘ future, they would’ve nodded
and moved on.
But today?
Today I was just the woman who had served her purpose. Now that the boys had made it, I was no longer useful.
So I smiled faintly.
“I’ve already handled it. The funds are in a trust. The boys will receive $1,500 a month, every month, until they turn forty.”
My father–in–law paused. His expression finally eased a little.
“Well. At least you had the sense to leave it to my grandsons.”
“But don’t bother buying a place. Just rent something small. Don’t waste money.”
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