Is 'Making Children Mind Without Losing Yours' Worth Reading?

Rhea Ravelle, heiress of a powerful and influential family, goes against her family's wishes and cuts ties with them. She chooses to marry Carter Jamison, a man with a failing career and two children born out of wedlock. For six years, she raises his children as if they were her own and helps Carter rebuild his crumbling business. Under her care, the kids grow into kind, well-mannered little stars, and Carter's company finally makes it big and goes public. But right at the celebration marking his entry into high society, the biological mother of his two children suddenly shows up. And Carter, who is usually so calm, completely loses it. He begs the woman to stay, making Rhea the laughingstock of the entire city. That night, he doesn't come home. Instead, he takes the children and runs straight back to his old flame, playing house as a happy family. Soon after, Carter files for divorce. "Thanks for everything, Rhea. But the kids need their birth mother." The children's mother also says, "Thank you for taking care of them all these years. But a stepmother will never compare to a birth mother." So blood beats love? If that's how it is, then she's done playing stepmother. However, the children reject their birth mother flat-out, and they don't want Carter either. They declare, "Rhea is our only mom! If you're getting divorced, then we're going wherever she goes!"

My name is Chase Murphy. I've been married to Jessica Stanton for three years. After she tells me that she's infertile, she brings home two children from an orphanage. I raise them as my own, investing everything I have into their lives. But in return, they push me down the stairs without a second thought. "Now our real dad can finally be with Mom." In that split second, the truth crashes down on me. These aren't just any children—they belong to Jessica and her first love, Troy McPoland. When I open my eyes again, I find myself transported back to the day Jessica first introduces the children into our lives. This time, I'm done being the fool raising someone else's family.

I donated 45 million to the city's best kindergarten, but my daughter failed the enrollment interview. She was a polymath. Furious, I demanded an explanation from admissions. She hurled an assessment file at my face. "Your daughter's brilliant, but you're the exact opposite! You're dead last among the parents!" She continued, "The others have tech domes! You're nothing but a regular Ivy League graduate! Your degree's worth about as much as toilet paper!" The other teachers laughed as well. "If we admit her daughter, it's going to look bad on the other kids. She can't take that responsibility." "Yeah, I can't believe she's demanding an explanation from Ms. Johnson. Her husband is the kindergarten's biggest stakeholder. He can make sure her daughter has nowhere to go." The admission teacher shoved me away. With disdain in her eyes, she said, "Out of my sight if you know what's good for you. My husband is picking me up in his Rolls-Royce. His car plate alone is worth more than your life! It's lucky 777! Only one in Georgeport!" Three sevens? That was my husband's car. I laughed mirthlessly and texted my husband. "I had no idea you had another wife behind me."

The day I signed the divorce papers, I voluntarily gave up custody of my daughter. Because that day, in the courtroom, she clung to her father’s neck, sobbing with all the fury a six-year-old could muster: “You don’t even love me… do you? If you leave Daddy, I’ll stay with him… and you’ll be all alone forever!” In my past life, I had ignored her childish threats. I fought tooth and nail for her custody. I poured every ounce of myself into raising her. And yet… she spent her entire life hating me. Not once did she ever call me “Mom” until the day I died. On her wedding day, she even invited her father’s mistress to the stage to give a speech of thanks. Now, opening my eyes again, seeing that same cruel little face staring back at me, I simply nodded. “I don’t care.” After all… I never wanted a daughter like her anyway.

When my daughter, Ruth Jensen, says for the tenth time that she wants a different mother, I don't get angry. I just calmly ask her who she wants instead. She blurts, "Vivian." She means Vivian Green, her tutor… and also the woman my husband has never been able to forget. At Ruth's birthday party that day, she even openly thanks Vivian, saying Vivian takes care of her like a mother. Looking at Ruth's young, innocent face, I finally understand that she doesn't like me. So, I stop caring for her and my husband the way I used to. Instead, I turn around and join a classified national project. Rather than wasting time on people who aren't worth it, I'd be better off serving my country!

Ever since my little brother died of a sudden high fever and Mom started spending all her time with Matthew Hunt, I started cutting her out of our family photos. One day, Dad got a call from my teacher. She overheard me saying I lost my mom, and I wanted to borrow my classmate's mom instead. Dad paused for a moment, then didn't correct me. "Yeah," he said quietly. "She passed away early." At the school's parent-child sports day, Dad saw me slip a cleaner ten dollars and ask her to be my mom for the day. He didn't stop me. Instead, he handed her another 200 bucks and asked if she could attend the parent meeting, too. After that, whenever something called for a mom, Dad let me go out and "hire" one. It wasn't until much later that Mom realized she hadn't heard from us in a long time. She canceled her meetings and came to pick me up from school herself. But at the gate, the teacher frowned and stopped her. Confused, she went home. The moment she stepped inside, she heard me talking to the property manager. "My mom's dead," I said. "Do you wanna be my new mom?"