My Biological Mother Realized Who I Was After My Death

I was the most hated kid in the foster care system. I had been returned by six different families. All because I knew I already had a mother.

In my first six foster homes, I did everything I could to get kicked out. I ruined my foster mothers' expensive lipsticks by scribbling all over their pristine white walls.

I folded my foster fathers' crucial tax documents into paper airplanes. Their patience always turned into disgust. And I succeeded.

Every single time, they sent me straight back to the group home. But I wasn't sad at all. I just wanted to go back to my real mom.

On the seventh time, the person who opened the door was my biological mother. The car pulled up in front of a luxury mansion.

The group home director’s parting words still echoed in my ears: "Chloe, this is your absolute last chance.

If they return you again, you’re staying in the system until you turn eighteen." The moment I squeezed through the front door, a small poodle bared its teeth and growled at me.

Terrified, I hid behind my mother. My mother’s brow furrowed in deep disgust. "You are not welcome in this house. Get out!" I felt a pang of disappointment. But I didn't leave.

I had eavesdropped on the director's conversation with a social worker. He said this woman was my actual biological mother.

I had fought so hard, ruined so many opportunities, just to get back to her side. I ran over to the dining table and sat down, behaving as perfectly as I could.

Seeing this, my mother had no choice but to walk into the kitchen with a cold face. She brought me a plate of homemade lasagna, fresh out of the oven. "Eat. Once you're done, leave.

Don't waste my time." I carefully used my fork to put a bite into my mouth. It was warm, cheesy, and incredibly delicious. My mother was just acting tough, I thought.

She actually cared. A warm spark of hope flared in my chest. I opened my mouth, about to call her "Mom" for the very first time.

Suddenly, a little girl in a beautiful designer dress flew into the room like a butterfly. Without even looking at me, she threw herself straight into my mother’s arms. "Mom!

I'm home!" Her voice was sweet and highpitched.

My mother immediately knelt down and caught her in a tight hug. "Daisy, you're back!" I watched as my mother gently held the girl named Daisy. The word "Mom" died in my throat.

It turned out she had another child. She didn't hate children. She just... didn't want me. A bitter sting rushed up my nose, and my eyes filled with tears I couldn't control.

Daisy used her pretty eyes to look me up and down, her voice dripping with natural superiority. "Is this the charity case from the group home?" I instantly looked at my mother, desperately hoping she would deny it.

But my mother just nodded. "Your father insisted on adopting her." Then, she turned to me. "What's your name?" My mother was asking for my name. Did she really not remember?

She was the one who named me. She had written it on a crumpled piece of paper and left it in my basket when she abandoned me at the orphanage gate. "Chloe...

Chloe Miller." My voice was barely a whisper, all the energy drained from my body. Daisy sneered. "What a trashy name.

She’s just a beggar." An instant later, her eyes landed on my plate of lasagna. She shrieked and swiped her hand, smashing my plate onto the floor. "You dirty beggar!

How dare you steal the lasagna my mom made specifically for me!" I looked down at the ruined food on the floor. So, she hadn't made it for me after all.

I opened my mouth to explain, but my mother grabbed my arm, dragging me into the kitchen. "You must never let Daisy know that you are my biological child!" she hissed. "If you can't keep your mouth shut, I'm sending you back to the group home tomorrow!"

Go back? Back to that cold place without her? I nodded frantically, swallowing all my tears and bitterness.

As long as I could stay by her side, did it really matter if I was just "adopted"? That night, I curled up on a tiny cot in the utility closet.

I tossed and turned, feeling a constant, sharp pricking sensation all over my body. The next morning, as soon as the sun rose, I dragged myself out of bed.

My skin was covered in tiny, red pinpricks. But I didn't have time to worry about that. I stood on my tiptoes at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes.

The freezing water splashed all over my clothes. My mother walked into the kitchen. When she saw my soaked sleeves, she froze for a fraction of a second.

But quickly, her face hardened again. "Don't think doing chores will make me keep you." "If Vincent hadn't begged me, I wouldn't have cared if you lived or died!" My heart sank.

Still, I couldn't help but think: So my father’s name is Vincent Carter. What a nice name. "Mom—" Daisy’s sweet voice interrupted us.

She pinched her nose, her little face twisted in disgust. "What is that smell? It’s so gross and smelly!

Mom, throw this beggar out!" My mother’s gaze instantly snapped to me, filled with pure annoyance. "Go take a shower.

Don't ruin Daisy’s appetite." I lowered my head and walked into the home sauna room. The moment I stepped inside, the glass door clicked shut. Locked.

Daisy was standing outside, holding the remote control, her fingers pressing the buttons rapidly. The temperature in the sauna began to skyrocket.

The display jumped straight to 200 degrees! "Let me out!" I screamed. The heat wave consumed me instantly. My skin felt like it was being pressed against a hot iron.

My vision blurred, and my head buzzed. Using the very last of my strength, I threw my entire body against the glass door. Crack— The glass finally gave way, webbed with cracks.

Like a burnt leaf, I collapsed backward onto the floor. Before my eyes closed completely, I thought I saw my mother’s terrified face through the shattered glass.

I don’t know how much time passed, but I woke up. There was an IV in the back of my hand, and the cuts on my legs were carefully bandaged.

From outside the room, I heard my mother talking to the doctor. "Heatstroke... severe trauma..." The door was pushed open. My mother walked in.

Without a word, she raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face! Slap! I was completely stunned.

Half of my face burned with intense pain, and my ears rang. "I’ve already made the arrangements.

You’re going back this afternoon." Those words felt like a knife plunging straight into my chest. No! I had fought so hard to finally be with my mother. I couldn't leave!

I practically fell off the hospital bed, kneeling on the cold floor, begging and crying: "Mom! Please! Don't throw me away!" "I'm fine now!

I'll leave the hospital right now, I won't be a burden!" But she just stood there, looking down at me.

There was no warmth in her eyes—only disgust and hatred. "Do you have any idea how long Daisy has practiced the violin?" "Three years! Three whole years!

Not a single day missed!" "Her competition is next month!

But now, her hand is cut by the glass because of you!" "Chloe, you haven't even been in this house for twentyfour hours, and you've already ruined Daisy's dreams!

There is no place for you in this family!" I slowly looked up. The words died in my throat. Through the crack of the hospital door, I saw Daisy standing outside.

A triumphant smirk played on her lips. She held up her bandaged hand and waved it at me mockingly. "Mom, look at Daisy's hand, she's fine! She's faking it!

She was the one who locked me in..."

Slap— An even harder blow struck the other side of my face. Instantly, something hard and metallictasting flew out of my mouth, landing on the cold floor with a tiny clack.

It was a few small, bloody teeth. I froze. My mother froze too.

Her hand was still shaking, and a flash of panic crossed her face. "What is going on here?" Hearing the noise, the doctor rushed into the room.

Seeing my bloody mouth, his brow furrowed deeply, his voice laced with anger. "Those are baby teeth. Ma'am, you cannot hit a child in the face!

This is extremely dangerous!" My mother looked at him in disbelief. "She's ten years old! How does she still have baby teeth?" The doctor looked up, his gaze sharp and accusatory.

His voice turned cold. "Your child is severely malnourished. Her baby teeth never fell out properly because her adult teeth didn't have the nutrients to grow and push them out.

This is a classic sign of longterm neglect, lack of vitamins, and calcium." His words quickly drew the attention of the other patients and families in the ward.

The whispers started immediately, cutting through the air like needles. "She looks so wealthy, but she treats her kid like this?" "How can a mother be so cruel?" "Look at the younger one, dressed like a princess, but the older one is treated like dirt." "If you can't love them equally, don't have them.

Parents like her deserve to end up alone." My mother’s face drained of all color. She stared at my bloodstained chin, her eyes trembling violently.

Seeing her eyes well up with tears, my heart clenched. Don't cry, Mom. Suppressing the throbbing pain in my face and the metallic taste in my mouth, I quickly wiped the blood away with my sleeve.

I forced a smile for the doctor and the crowd. "It's not my mom's fault... It's me. I was just a really picky eater at the group home.

I never ate my food." My voice was a bit slurred, but I tried my best to speak clearly. "My mom... she even made me lasagna yesterday." I looked up at my mother, trying to make my smile look prettier, even though I knew I must look hideous with blood all over my mouth. "Mom, it doesn't hurt.

Really..." The whispers in the room suddenly shifted. "Oh, she’s adopted..." "Well, at least this lady was kind enough to take her in and get her medical help." "Yeah, it’s her biological parents who are the real monsters for abandoning her in the first place!" They praised my mother's kindness and cursed my biological parents to hell.

They had no idea that the saint they were praising and the monster they were cursing were the exact same person. I watched my mother’s embarrassed, fleeing figure.

Yet, a strange sense of peace washed over me. She hadn't sent me away immediately. She was still willing to let me get treatment. Did this mean she was finally accepting me?

With this fragile, desperate hope, I spent the next few days in the hospital. On the day of my discharge, I packed my few things early and kept my eyes glued to the door.

Hours passed. People walked by, but none of them were her. My hope slowly deflated like a popped balloon. Finally, a tall shadow blocked the light at the door.

A man in a sharp, tailored suit stood there, looking at me with a complex expression. The nurse called him Mr. Carter.

I scrambled off the bed, grabbed his large hand, and the word slipped out: "Dad!" His body stiffened. Emotions I couldn't read swirled in his eyes.

Ultimately, he just gave a low, heavy sigh. "Yeah. Let's go home." His car was incredibly spacious and comfortable. Rocked by the gentle motion of the ride, I quickly fell asleep.

In my halfdreaming state, I heard him speaking over the phone, his voice hushed. "Are you still refusing to tell the Miller family?" Vincent sighed. "There’s nothing to say.

Julian Miller treated Stella like a rebound, a hollow substitute.

She ran away pregnant and abandoned the baby rather than go back to him." My heart skipped a beat. Rebound... abandoned... "But what about you?" the voice on the other end asked, utterly confused. "You know that kid isn't yours.

Even her own mother doesn't want her. Why are you so determined to play the savior?"

"I'm sterile. I can never have biological children of my own," Vincent replied, his voice heavy. "Daisy... isn't mine either.

We adopted her three years ago when she was just a baby.

She doesn't know." "But Chloe... she is the only blood relative Stella has left in this world." His voice grew softer, laced with a deep, aching pity. "I heard this little girl was abandoned six times.

I just feel bad for her. What did the child ever do wrong?" Every single word felt like a lightning bolt shattering my mind.

I kept my eyes squeezed shut, digging my nails into my palms to keep my breathing steady. So, the reason I wasn't loved wasn't because I was a bad kid.

It was decided before I was even born. The car pulled into the driveway of the beautiful mansion.

In my arms, I tightly clutched a small bag of gummy bears Vincent had bought for me at the gas station.

Before I could even step out of the car, Daisy flew out of the house like a happy bird, throwing herself at Vincent. "Daddy!" She squealed happily.

But the moment her eyes landed on the candy in my hands, her smile vanished. Pure rage flared in her eyes. "That's mine!" she shrieked, lunging forward to grab it.

I instinctively shielded the bag, refusing to let go. Vincent stepped in, gently holding Daisy back. "Daisy, don't take Chloe's. Daddy bought some for you too." "No!

I want the ones she has!" Being held back, Daisy burst into a loud, earsplitting sob. "Mommy! Mommy! Daddy is being mean!

He bought candy for that street rat and yelled at me!" My mother’s face instantly darkened as she walked out. "Give it to her." I hid the tiny bag of candy behind my back and stubbornly shook my head.

This was the very first time I had gathered the courage to resist. "You're not going to give it up?" With brute force, she ripped the bag of candy out of my hands and threw it straight into the trash can next to the porch.

The colorful candies scattered into the filthy garbage. I burst into tears.

All the pain, neglect, and unfairness I had endured finally broke through, flowing down my face in endless tears.

But my mother only sneered. "You've barely been here a few days and you're already trying to compete for attention?" "No, Daddy bought them for me..." I sobbed, trying to explain. "Shut up!

How dare you talk back after throwing a tantrum? It seems no one taught you any manners. Go to the utility closet and think about what you did.

No dinner tonight!" Vincent tried to step in. "Stella, she's just a child..." My mother glared at him. "Vincent, is it her, or is it me and Daisy? Choose." Vincent went silent.

My mother shoved me violently into the dark utility closet. It was tiny, pitchblack, and smelled of mold.

From outside, I could faintly hear Daisy’s sniffling stopping, replaced by my mother’s gentle, soothing voice comforting her.

I leaned against the cold door and cried until I passed out. When I woke up, it was because of a burning, agonizing hunger in my stomach.

To my surprise, the closet door was cracked open. A sliver of light peeked in. Like a pathetic little bug, I crawled out of the gap. I remembered the discarded candy.

I knelt by the trash can, desperately digging through the garbage until I found the few pieces of colorful gummies.

Just as I was about to put one in my mouth, a voice sounded above me. "Are you looking for these?" Daisy was standing behind me.

Her pretty little face held a sweet, innocent, yet terrifyingly sadistic smile.

She held up a small paper packet. "I accidentally spilled Mommy's rat poison into the trash can just now." She whispered, "If you eat those, you'll die, right?" My blood ran cold.

An overwhelming wave of nausea hit my stomach, but it was quickly eclipsed by a paralyzing fear. Am I... am I going to die? I scrambled up on all fours and stumbled toward my mother’s bedroom. "MMom!" I rasped, grabbing the hem of her shirt. "Daisy... she put rat poison on the candy!

I ate it! I'm going to die!" My mother furrowed her brows and shoved me away. "Enough, Chloe!" Her eyes were cold and filled with utter disgust. "Daisy is an angel.

She would never do something so horrific!" She pointed to the front door. "Get out!

If you lie one more time, I am sending you back to the orphanage tonight!" She dragged me to the living room and threw me toward the door. I stumbled, barely catching myself.

I saw Vincent standing on the balcony, talking on his phone, his brow furrowed as if he was dealing with a massive crisis at work.

I wanted to scream for his help, but the words died in my throat. He loved my mother so much. If I was gone, he could just focus on her and Daisy.

This house would finally be peaceful. I couldn't be a burden to him anymore. A wave of metallic, warm liquid rushed up my throat.

I swallowed it down, slowly shuffling toward the front door. I used the last of my energy to pull it open. The cold night wind rushed in. I couldn't hold it in any longer.

With a sickening gasp, a pool of dark red blood splattered onto the cold stone steps. My vision began to spin, turning black. Maybe dying was for the best.

If I died, it wouldn't hurt anymore. And I wouldn't make Mom angry anymore.

Using my absolute last ounce of strength, I crawled over the gruesome puddle of blood, dragging myself toward the busy road outside the gates.

The blinding headlights of an oncoming car illuminated my body. I closed my eyes, thinking: Finally, it's over. At the dinner table, my mother was peeling shrimp for Daisy.

Her phone buzzed in the living room. Since her hands were covered in grease, she ignored it. Daisy quickly ran over to the phone.

She sneakily held down the power button and shut it off. "Mommy, it was just a spam call." The three of them continued their warm, cozy family dinner.

Suddenly, a breaking news alert flashed on the television: "An amber alert has been issued. A tenyearold girl was involved in a horrific hitandrun just moments ago.

The victim appears to be a foster child, and authorities have been unable to contact her guardians. If anyone has information..."