Dying Was the Best Gift I Gave My Mother

I knew my mother, Isabella, wanted me dead. But I was too stubborn to die, clinging to my miserable life with her for twelve years. Until that day, when I was changing my sister's blanket, Isabella rushed in like a madwoman and slammed me against the wall.

"You spawn of that Barone bastard! Why don't you just die and do this family a favor!"

That was the first time I didn't fight back. She was right. My existence was a mistake, and I really did deserve to die.

By the time I dragged my bleeding body to Theresa's compound, night had already fallen.

My grandmother Theresa, the matriarch of our family, wasn't surprised at all to see me looking like this.

She called for the family doctor, laid out a table full of ointments and bandages, and had a maid bring over a plate of pasta.

It was my favorite, spaghetti bolognese.

In the past, I would have scarfed it down while threatening to smash all of Leo's favorite limited-edition toys to pieces the next day.

But tonight, I just stared at the blood-red tomato sauce on my plate and asked her softly, "Theresa, I don't actually share my so-called father's blood, do I?"

She didn't say a word, but the sudden surge of resistance and disgust in her eyes confirmed the truth.

She stood up and repeatedly rubbed the signet ring on her finger with her thumb, as if something dirty had gotten on it.

I understood. What flowed in my veins was dirty blood.

I really was the daughter of that bastard from the Barone family, the result of a rival boss's sin.

No wonder Isabella wished I was dead.

A wave of nausea rose from the pit of my stomach. I rushed out the door, leaning against the low wall, and dry heaved until my throat tasted like copper.

The freezing night wind cut against my skin, and my wounds throbbed with pain.

Before, whenever Isabella beat me, I felt like these injuries were debts she owed me. Sooner or later, I would make her pay them back with interest.

But now, I realized I didn't even dare to look her in the eye anymore.

I didn't go back into Theresa's estate, and naturally, she didn't send anyone out to look for me.

I wandered the streets like a ghost, not knowing where to go.

Until I passed by a restaurant on the corner and saw an ordinary family happily gathered together celebrating a birthday.

The mother, sitting right in the center, was surrounded by laughter and joy. The genuine, happy smile on her face stung me so much that I instinctively shrank back.

At Isabella's birthday banquet last year, before she saw me show up, this proud Principessa had the exact same smile on her face.

The moment I pushed the door open and walked in, that smile died instantly.

Around that time, the school assigned an essay titled "My Mother."

I wrote her as a heartless monster.

Mrs. Callahan dragged me into her office and scolded me for a whole period, pointing at that essay.

I tuned out everything she said, except for one thing.

She said there wasn't a single mother in the world who didn't love her child.

I believed her.

So I took the spare change I saved from returning empty bottles and bought a bouquet of discounted flowers from the supermarket. They couldn't even be called real flowers.

I just wanted her to hug me, the way she hugged Leo.

But when faced with the flowers I handed her, she just casually tossed out a single sentence.

She said cheap weeds from the streets would only dirty her hands.

Anger rushed straight to my head. I snuck into her walk-in closet, grabbed the tailoring scissors, and cut the designer gown she was supposed to wear to the dinner that night into shreds.

I still remember the hysterical scream she let out when she opened the door and found her ruined dress.

Back then, I only felt a twisted sense of pleasure, thinking she didn't deserve to be a mother at all.

She deserved to be tortured.

But now, after learning the truth, I was completely awake.

I was the one who never deserved to be loved.

My very existence was the deepest, most toxic thorn in her side.

Looking at the gentle smile of the mother in the restaurant, I silently made a decision.

For Isabella's birthday this year, I was going to give her a gift she would definitely like.

A gift that would set her completely free.