Chapter 1
At dinner, I grabbed another baked chicken wing, and my son, Hank, just upended the whole plate onto my face.
He shouted, "Eat, eat, eat! That's all you ever do, you lazy sow! A pig like you brings in zero cash—just burns Dad's money. You're nothing compared to Nina."
Gravy and bits of food slid down my cheeks, but I kept my cool and asked, "So, you really don't want me as your mom anymore?"
He rolled his eyes at me in disgust.
He snapped, "Yeah, now beat it. So Nina can finally take your spot."
Alright then. I couldn't wait to see how perfectly Hank's life turned out with his biased dad and the scheming queen his dad was obsessed with.
*****
When the plate smashed into my face, I was completely blindsided. My hand, still clutching the baked chicken wing, just hung awkwardly in the air.
Hank slapped the fork right out of my hand.
He snapped, "All you do is eat. You're like a pig, can't earn a single cent, just burning through Dad's cash. You can't even compare to Nina's pinky toe."
Rage made me tremble all over.
I didn't even bother telling Hank the baked chicken wing was meant for him, or that his dad hadn't brought home a dime in over two years. Every bite, every bill, it was me footing the tab.
My face was a mess of gravy and scraps. I wiped it off, keeping my cool, and looked straight at Hank.
"So, you really wish you didn't have me as your mom, huh?" I asked.
This wasn't the first time I'd asked. Before, Hank would always dodge or mumble something to change the subject. But this time, he didn't even hesitate.
He shot me a look full of disdain and spat out his answer, "Yeah, hurry up and get lost. Then Nina can finally move in. You don't even know how much you embarrass me every time you show up at school."
I gave Hank a good smack, spun around, and headed straight for my room. No matter how loud he screamed or cursed outside, I wasn't answering him ever again.
I wasn't blind to the fact that my husband, Jack White, was cheating, or that his mistress was pregnant, and Jack's mother, Amy White, was over there taking care of her.
I kept putting up with all this, refusing to get a divorce, just for Hank's sake.
Jack's so-called true love, Nina Smith, was a real piece of work. If Hank ended up with her, she'd make his life hell.
But no matter how many times I tried to spell out the risks to Hank, he always thought I was just jealous and badmouthing Nina.
I was done caring. From now on, Hank was on his own. Let this ungrateful brat fend for himself.
*****
That night, Jack and Amy actually came home for once.
Hank couldn't wait to point at the red mark on his face and start complaining.
Amy was absolutely furious, pounding on my door like she was about to break it down.
She barked, "How dare you hit my precious grandson?"
Jack snapped, "Clara, don't go too far. What's wrong with you, taking it out on Hank? You're losing your mind!"
Hank looked super pleased with himself.
He snarled, "You dare hit me? I'll make your life hell!"
Just then, I was sitting in the room with Hank's iPad, scrolling through their chat history.
They had a group chat with Hank, Amy, Jack, Nina, and Nina's daughter, Mila.
Most of the messages were just them badmouthing me.
Hank had secretly snapped a bunch of ugly photos of me and posted them in the group. He texted: [Seriously, Dad, how did you ever end up with such a useless, ugly woman?]
Jack replied: [Who hasn't messed up when they were young?]
Mila chimed in: [It's not too late to fix things.]
Hank jumped in: [Yeah, Dad, hurry up and ditch that ugly witch. I want someone like Nina as my mom. She's so much prettier.]
Nina replied: [Hank, you are making me blush.]
Seeing them together, so happy and picture-perfect as a family, made my blood boil. Hank's betrayal was the real punch to the gut; I could barely hold back my fury.
Hank was fourteen. There was no way he didn't know right from wrong.
If I'd known he'd turn out to be such a piece of work, I never would've wasted all these years on him.
Steadying myself, I kept scrolling, and sure enough, there it was: them plotting how to kick me out of the house.
Hank jumped right in with his own plan. He texted: [Isn't she always saying she won't divorce because of me? Fine, let me deal with her.]
He snapped a photo of the baked chicken wings and texted: [I'll dump this whole plate on her face and see if she can take it. If she leaves, perfect. If not, I'll make her life hell.]
Mila was egging him on, calling him tough and manly. Hank got even cockier, dreaming up even more ways to torture me: squirting glue into my moisturizer, hiding a dead rat in my purse, or spiking my milk with laxatives.
Reading all those nasty messages, I started to wonder if Hank was even my son anymore, or maybe just some demon sent to torture me.