Is Mommie Dearest Novel Based On A True Story?

“If you ever call that bastard my child again, I will yank it out of your belly!” My heart shatters like a knife plunged deep. I stay still, my body shaking. “Now sign these papers and get out of my life!” he barks, throwing the papers at me. “If I ever see you close to me or my territory, I will have you beheaded in the most painful way imaginable!” **** Isla Monroe had given up everything: her dreams, her wishes, even her best friend; just to please her cold, distant husband. She endured the silence, the neglect, the loneliness, hoping that one day he would change… that he would finally look at her as something more than just the trophy wife. The day she learned she was pregnant, Isla was accused of an affair with the gardener. The staff turned on her, her family cast her out, and Marcus believed them without question. Saving her unborn babies was more important than proving her innocence, so Isla left quietly. “From now onwards, I will be your mother and your father. I will never let those who discarded us come close to you.” She fled the city. Five years later, Marcus runs into two identical little children who look just like him. They have his red lips and deep blue eyes. He is instantly drawn to them. “Little one, who is your mother?” The children point to Isla, the wife he discarded, now powerful and determined to keep him from her children. “Get away from my children!” she hisses, urging the nannies to take them away. “Didn’t I tell you not to speak to strangers, my babies?” Marcus is shocked. But what will he do when he finds out she is married to his blood, his rival? Drama with a twist.

The seventh time Dante Moretti served me divorce papers, I was sitting with my son in a cheap diner on Chicago's South Side. I forced a smile and brushed my hand over my son's hair. "Just wait a little longer, sweetheart. This time, Mommy will get custody of you." He stayed quiet for a long moment. Then he looked up and asked, “Mommy, how much do you need to sell me for before you're happy?” Before I could answer, he pulled a handwritten divorce agreement from his backpack and pushed it toward me. "I know you keep fighting Dad for me because you want more money from him." "I wrote the agreement for him. Please sign it. Dad is already tired. Stop making his life so hard." His handwriting was crooked, but every word had been written with care. Dante would give me three million dollars. At the bottom, in my son's childish scrawl, was one more line. [After you take the money, don't bother me, Dad, and Serena anymore. Let us be happy.] Serena was Dante's childhood sweetheart. The woman he trusted more than his own wife. For five years, I had stood against Dante's family, his lawyers, and half the Chicago underworld just to keep custody of my son. For him, I would've walked away with nothing. But the child I had raised for eight years had already chosen another mother. So why shouldn't I give their perfect little family exactly what they wanted?

My mom is a pathological liar who enjoys making herself seem like the victim. Unfortunately, I'm always the scapegoat. When I was little, there was one time when she went out to play poker with her friends. As a result, she forgot to go home and prepare dinner on time. After that, she slapped me in front of the entire family. "This brat ran off to god knows where earlier! I went out looking for her, which is why dinner got delayed!" Because of that lie, I had to kneel in the courtyard throughout the night. When I was studying, I had to take an extremely important exam. My teacher repeatedly reminded the parents to prepare all materials required for their children. But my mom didn't even prepare anything for me. After that, she even said in front of everyone, "I've already prepared the materials for her. She was the one who threw them away when she was on her way to school because she didn't want to take the exam at all!" Since then, all of my classmates ostracized me throughout my entire school life. After I came of age, my mom kept crying to me in the middle of the night. "Your father has been abusing me for so many years. I had to endure everything for your sake, you know!" I advised her to get a divorce, only for her to tell an exaggerated version of what I said to my father. "Your daughter egged me on to divorce you! She said she doesn't need a useless father like you! I couldn't stand it anymore, so I'm telling you this!" He flew into a fit of rage on the spot, which led to him accidentally pushing me down the stairs. I died on the spot from the fall. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day my mom cries to me about my dad for the first time.

When I was ten years old, I sold my mother to human traffickers. My father calls me an ungrateful monster, a devil. He sues me 99 times, but each time, I am found not guilty because I am under 14. In the end, on his way to bring my mother home, he is beaten to death by the men in that village. 20 years later, my younger sister finally brings our mother—now unable to walk and mentally unstable—out of the village. She starts a livestream and breaks down in tears. "I beg the internet to put my devil of a sister on trial. Don’t let her get away with this! She destroyed my family. I will make sure she loses everything!" But only I know… My mother deserves it.

After fifteen years away, I was finally brought back to the DeLuca family. I thought I was returning to my real home. Instead, I walked into a house where the adopted daughter wanted me dead, my father treated me like a burden, and my brothers would rather watch me bleed than make her cry. On my first day back, she set dogs on me. That night, I was dragged to the top of the observatory and forced to apologize to her. When I fell from the tower covered in blood, they still called me a liar. Because in the DeLuca family, I may have been the real daughter by blood— but she was the daughter they loved. She thought she could bully me, poison me, and freeze me to death without consequence. She was wrong. Because the night I nearly died, my mother finally chose me—and turned a gun on the whole DeLuca family.

My mom believed in one thing above all else: being number one. To achieve that, she created a strict daily schedule and even developed a monitoring app that required us to submit reports every day. Anyone who failed to rank first according to the app's evaluation would be tied to a chair and severely punished. No matter how difficult the task was, my younger brother, Jason Hunt, could always complete it and receive a perfect score. Even when he actually ranked last, the monitoring software would still display him in first place. As for me, a single misspelled word was enough to trigger a failing warning from the app, followed immediately by my mom's harsh punishment. At first, I tried to explain. Later, I stayed silent. In the end, I could only kneel and beg. My mom remained unmoved. "Trash doesn't deserve sympathy," she said coldly. "You'll thank me when you become successful in the future." On the first day of the New Year, my mom took Jason out to visit our relatives and exchange greetings. I, meanwhile, was burning with a high fever and could not even finish the day's assignments. Ignoring my illness, my mom dragged me into a bathtub filled with ice. "If you're trying to escape studying, you don't deserve to live," she said. "Pretending to be sick? If you've got the guts, then just die already." She forced my head underwater and raised a rod, smashing it against my skull again and again. I begged desperately for mercy, but it was futile. My mom left with Jason, and I curled up alone on the floor. She was right. Only those who work hard deserve to live.