Her Halo Was My Money
The student I once sponsored, Lillian Pegg, jacked my identity, slapped on the "rich heiress" title, and started tossing out houses and cars like she was some fairy godmother for "underprivileged" students.
Her big mission? Making sure everyone had a roof over their head.
My in-laws? Wrapped around her finger. They swore up and down she'd saved their lives. Even Liam—my son with my late husband—acted like she was the only mom he'd ever had.
Meanwhile, I was puking blood from ulcers, and everyone treated it like a bad improv act.
Liam bought every word out of her mouth. Thought she and my husband were some kind of twin-flame couple and labeled me the evil baby snatcher.
Fast-forward: I got locked in a bedroom and left to bleed out.
Then I woke up.
It was the exact day Lillian was playing Santa Claus. The crowd around her practically worshipped her.
"You're the kindest boss in the world! You care about our food, clothes, housing, everything. We'll support you and your company forever!"
Yeah, not on my watch.
I shut down all her privileges right then and there.
This time? Lillian and that backstabbing son of mine were gonna eat regret for the rest of their lives.