Novel & Cerita Black Moms Be Like Vine

Then Mrs Blackwood walked up to me too. "Since you are calling him dad, that means you will be calling me mom too. Look, Vincent might look tough on the outside but he is actually a big softie on the inside. Give him time and don't give up on him. I hope after a year, you both won't think about getting a divorce. Welcome to the family my child " she said and hugged me too. I guess the Blackwood families are huggers. Then Vincent's brother, Everett came up to me. We have actually never spoke that well.

Just as I had expected my mom's friends are all here, at least the ones I can remember. “Oh Ivy look how grown you've become, just take a look at those big boobs of yours” one of them exclaims and I immediately start to feel uncomfortable. This is one of the many reasons why I don't like them at all. “Oh stop it, those little things” mom says and they all laugh. What a great way to boost my body image mom. “Where's your husband?” One asks, the one I know to be Velma. “Oh he's right outside his G-wagon” mom says not missing the opportunity to brag.

Everyone knows she’s just jealous. I smiled despite everything. *Thanks man. I appreciate it.* More texts came in. Other kids from school. Some I barely knew. *Your real mom is way prettier than your stepmom lol* *That lady’s posts were unhinged. Your mom didn’t even respond which makes her look classy af* *My mom said Vivian Cross is having a midlife crisis. Is that true?* I didn’t respond to all of them. But I saved them. Because they were proof that people saw the truth. That Vivian’s lies weren’t working.

A tiny Morse code that says stay alive, Mommy. The screen is spider-webbed but breathing. 4,892 notifications. I open X with a thumb that feels borrowed. #LiviaKane is the number-one global trend. Above actual wars. Above actual deaths. The photos are everywhere: courthouse steps, white dress clinging to yesterday’s grief, Alexander two steps behind like a beautiful reaper. Someone zoomed so close on my ring finger the black diamonds look like bullet wounds. The comments are a coliseum of teeth: “She upgraded from garbage to nuclear weapon in 24 hours” “Pregnant and still served revenge cold. Mother is mothering.” “Imagine fumbling a woman who can buy your entire bloodline with one phone cal

I didn't sleep. I spent the night sitting on the floor of my bedroom, listening to my mother pass out in the living room, staring at the screen of my phone. The notification had come through at 2:00 AM. A single ping that sounded like a gunshot in the silent house. Blackridge Buzz: New Video Uploaded. I hadn't watched it. I didn't need to. I had lived it. But the comments... I couldn't stop reading the comments. “Omg is that her mom?” “Evans Thorpe was at THAT house?” “Explains why she wears those hoodies. Hiding the smell of cheap gin.” “Trailer trash trying to marry up. Classic.”

Opening them again, my gaze hit the moonlight radiating through my blinds. I must have slept all afternoon. Reaching for my phone, I tapped into my I*******m account. Aunt Vanessa uploaded new photos. My fingers trembled as I clicked on it. They were all photos of her, having fun with Cheryl and Mother and a few other women. The last photo, though, left me struggling for breath. Vince's tattooed arm was around her waist, and he was kissing her neck. It was the most intimate pose. Like I wanted to break my heart even more, I clicked the comments. Vince's comment was the first and it had over three hundred thousand reactions.

If it had been before, I probably would have cried out of pure frustration and injustice. But now, I just found it pathetic. It was always the same old trick. Vincent would play the victim, and everyone would believe that I was the one in the wrong. However, what I didn't expect was to see a very familiar name among the comments. It was Mom. She didn't know it was Vincent's alternate account. She probably thought it was just a post by some random internet stranger.

“Mother.” Oh, goddess. This was Nate’s mother. Their mother. I’d heard about Vivienne Blackthorne. My father had called her “a force of nature” once, which in Victor Ashford’s language meant “a woman who scares the shit out of me.” “What a lovely ceremony,” Vivienne said, her eyes raking over me with disapproval. “Though I must say, the bride looks rather young. And pale. Are you eating properly, dear? You’ll need your strength.”

"Mom said in a manipulating tone. I pressed my fingers on my throbbing temple.Whatever my mother said somewhere seemed convincing to me.It was a harsh fact that I took the company on a new zenith on my own hard work and capabilities but the world will only gave it a conclusion that I am a Black and the success is in the genes .

Mother blinked once. Then twice. And to my complete shock— She sighed. “Oh.” That was it. Not anger. Not outrage. Just… understanding. I cleared my throat, running a hand through my hair. “Mom,” I began carefully, “we didn’t realize—” “That much is obvious,” she replied dryly. Vivian looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. “I thought I heard something fall,” Mother continued calmly. “I came to check.” Nothing had fallen. Except our dignity.