Emotional

Even before marrying Wayne Cooper, I knew he had a fierce sister-in-law. He would always tell me to never get into a fight with her. After we marry, we spend Christmas Eve at his parents' house for the first time. I'm forced to bustle around in the kitchen as I prepare a feast for over a dozen people. Meanwhile, Wayne's family lounges in the living room. They chatter away while enjoying the fruits I've washed and sliced. As I place the last dish on the table, Wayne's brother and sister-in-law, Kyle Cooper and Lucy Wren, arrive. When I want to take my seat, I discover there isn't one for me. That's when Lucy snorts and says sarcastically, "I heard you're a good wife who's obedient and easygoing, Melanie. I have to say that your cooking is… mediocre, though." This infuriates me. I'm about to retort when she turns to my mother-in-law. She says, "I think you should do the cooking from now on, Gloria. Your food is delicious…"

After my mother shot down my pleas to cover my medical bills the 100th time, I clutched my bone cancer diagnosis papers and trudged to the crematorium. "Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I muttered to the clerk. Half an hour ticked by before my parents and adopted brother arrived in their car. My dad, a forensic pathologist, cracked me across the face. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from your brother?" My mom, a hospital director, snatched the papers from my hands and shredded them into confetti. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!" My brother cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad." I spun around, my hand pressed against my throbbing chest, and begged the crematorium staff. "Please, when it's time, cremate me and scatter the ashes in the river. I've got no family left in this world."

When my grandpa fell gravely ill and needed treatment abroad, the elders in the family decided to choose a junior to accompany him. They picked my cousin, but my mom tearfully pleaded with me to take her place. "You're a doctor. Caring for your grandfather is second nature to you. Bianca is an orphan, frail and delicate. She can't handle such a grueling task." To save her distress, I agreed to go in Bianca Pittman's stead, embarking on a five-year stay abroad. When my grandpa finally recovered, I boarded a flight home, eager to reunite with my family. But as I landed, a post on my mother's social media froze me in my tracks. [My daughter is getting married! Thank you all for your blessings!] But I was her only daughter. I couldn't help but wonder who she was referring to.

On Thanksgiving, my husband Steven Mandel showed up with another woman. Not just anyone—Fiona Osborne, his first love. She had Alzheimer's and only remembered him. And yeah, he said she was moving in. Steven's eyes were ice. "Erica, I stayed away from Fiona out of duty. But I'm not wasting what time I have left without her." Happy 50th anniversary to me. No gift—just a slap-in-the-face love confession. Maya, my daughter-in-law, tried to talk some sense into him, bless her. Then Anton—my own son—cut in. "Mom already kept Dad away from Fiona for years. She's tied ME to you for half my life. Now Dad just wants to take care of the woman he loves—what's so wrong with that?" Steven stepped in front of Fiona like some kind of hero. "Anton's right. Erica, I let you play the wife role for decades. Now, I want to be with the woman I truly love. "If you can't handle that, let's just get a divorce." I stood there, frozen. I'd walked away from a powerhouse law career for this family after we had Anton. I thought I had given everything, and in their eyes, I would be a perfect wife and a perfect mother. But today made it clear—I was never enough. No matter how much I gave, it was never going to be enough. I turned to Maya. She was crying. "You wanna get divorced together?"

I need to drive to and from work due to a change in my job scope. However, my father-in-law hoards my car and refuses to return it. My husband stands up for him. "How can you be so materialistic? So what if you have to take an electric scooter to work?" So, I sell the car. My husband points at me and snaps, "What right do you have to sell Dad's car?" I look at him calmly. "I've sold the one you drive too."

After Mom passed, it was just me and Dad, depending on each other. I’ve always had poor health, and people used to taunt me, calling me a “sickly, doomed child.” He kneeled by my bedside, making a promise. “I swear, I’ll get you the best treatment, no matter what. You’ll never suffer again!” Eventually, he became a powerful CEO, going so far as to buy an entire private villa just so I could recover in peace. However, his assistant assumed I was his mistress.  She came in with a group of security guards and surrounded me. “So, you’re the cripple who’s been seducing Mr. Johnson?” “Let’s see if you can still act high and mighty after I’m done with you!” She kicked over my wheelchair, yanked me by the hair, scratched up my face, and finally cut off my hand. Barely clinging to life, I lay there until Dad came back. She held up my severed hand, presenting it to him. “Mr. Johnson, this was a spy sent by a rival company. I took care of her for you.”

I dropped my car off for maintenance at the service center. When it was finished, I told the staff to put it on the tab of my cousin, who ran the shop. The staff member nodded and started to process it, but then the female manager stepped in. "We don't do tabs here. You've got to pay up now," she said, slapping the bill down right in front of me. Premium Diagnostic Scan: $80,000 Exhaust System Sound Enhancement: $100,000 Engine Harmony Calibration: $100,000 Total: $280,000. I laughed at the absurdity. Since when did my cousin start running a rip-off operation? The manager crossed her arms and gave me a snooty once-over. "Always trying to mooch off Chad. I've seen plenty of broke relatives like you. If you can't swing it, don't act like you can." Unwilling to argue with her, I pulled out my phone and called my cousin. "You have ten minutes to fire the manager, or your shop is finished."

My parents' enemy kidnapped me and live-streamed cutting off my fingers, just to force them to show up. For a time, the entire internet was searching for my parents. But what no one knew was that the police chief on the live connection was my real father. At that very moment, he was on a beach in Havai, lighting fireworks for his adopted son. And on their barbecue table, the live stream of my fingers being cut off was playing. Later, I survived long enough to be rescued, and I reached out with my severed fingers, wanting to touch my parents. But they recoiled in disgust and, without so much as a backward glance, took their adopted son out for steak. What they never realized was that hidden inside my severed fingers was something that would make them regret everything.

I got off work early and walked into the living room, only to find my wife lounging lazily on the couch. And next to her? Some random dude I didn't recognize. "Babe, you know I'm obsessed with that sweet, milky smell," he said, sipping away like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. That was it—I completely lost it. Meanwhile, our baby was in the corner, crying her lungs out, hungry and ignored. I didn't even think twice. I grabbed the broom by the door and stormed in, ready to raise hell.

My parents’ adoptive daughter took three kids hiking with her, and they ended up dead. They wanted me to take the blame for her. My father forced me to kneel before the families of the victims and crushed my calf with his hiking pole. “These were the legs she used to take your kids hiking. I’ll make sure she never gets to hike again.” My mother legally disowned me. “Jenny will be breaking hiking records one day. I won’t let anyone bring up her shameful sister when that happens! She’s sacrificed so much for you all these years, and it’s time you paid her back.” My boyfriend promised me, “Jenny has nothing. She would not survive if she had to endure all this, but at least you have me. I’ll be here for you no matter what happens. They’re just angry, but they won’t send you to jail. You can come home once everything settles down.” To defend the reputation of my adoptive sister, he and my parents worked together to falsify evidence and send me to jail. “It’s to protect you,” they promised, “so the families don’t take revenge on you.” They did not know I had already given up on them.