“Joanna Jenkins, that’s enough! What did your sister ever do to deserve this kind of treatment? No matter what, she always cared about you as her older sister!”
Luke jabbed a finger toward my face as he scolded me, his eyes filled with undisguised disgust.
I held my throbbing cheek, still stinging from his slap and was just about to respond when my grandson hurled a pot of scalding soup at my face.
The searing heat burned through my skin. I couldn’t even open my eyes. A sharp scream tore from my throat.
“You bully my aunt! You pig! I’ll scald you to death!” Peter stood there with arms crossed, his glare full of hatred.
Covering my blistered face, I begged my son and daughter-in-law in a trembling voice, “My face… it’s burning… I can’t see… please, call 911…”
But they didn’t spare me a single glance.
Instead, they rushed to Camila’s side, tending to her as if she were some delicate porcelain. They carried her out of the room and took her to the hospital like she was a national treasure—while leaving me there, alone.
It was the restaurant staff who found me and took pity, helping me to the hospital.
By then, most of my face was covered in angry, oozing blisters. Whatever beauty I once had was long gone. Wrapped in layers of bandages with only my eyes exposed, I looked like something from a nightmare.
I stared at my reflection and laughed bitterly, tears streaming down my cheeks.
This was the family I had spent forty years building. The family I had sacrificed everything for.
What a joke.
Half an hour later, I received a call from Luke, ordering me to meet them immediately at an address he sent. He said we needed to take a family photo.
I didn’t want to go, but to avoid suspicion, I dragged my battered body to the appointment.
When I arrived, Luke and his son's family were fawning over Camila. They served her tea, massaged her legs and shoulders—showering her with care I had never received, no matter how hard I worked.
The moment they noticed me, their eyes were filled with disdain. All of them, except Camila, who smiled sweetly and waved.
“Sister, come over here! Let’s take a family photo together.”
She reached out and pulled me toward the camera.
“I want to stand next to Auntie!” my grandson shouted, running over and shoving me aside to get to Camila.
My son followed suit, walking up to her with stars in his eyes. And then Luke moved in as well, standing so close beside her that from a distance, it looked like she was leaning against his chest.
Without even realizing it, I had been pushed out of the frame. I stood there awkwardly, a stranger at my own family photo.
Then Camila's eyes landed on my bracelet. She clapped her hands together and exclaimed, “Sister, your bracelet is stunning! It’s totally my style. Can I borrow it for a photo?”
I instinctively pulled my hand back. “No, that was my mother’s. She left it to me.”
The very next moment, Luke seized my wrist and yanked it off.
“It’s just for a picture! Your mom won’t lose anything. I’ll return it later.”
My heart dropped. I reached to take it back, but he shoved me violently.
I stumbled backward off the platform, landing hard. My foot twisted unnaturally and pain exploded through me. I cried out, unable to hold back the tears.
But Luke didn’t even glance at me. Instead, he lovingly slipped the bracelet onto Camila’s wrist and wrapped his arm around her for the photo.
Camila turned to look at me, her voice syrupy sweet but her eyes smug.
“Oh no, Sister seems badly hurt. Should we call an ambulance?”
Luke scoffed. “She’s faking it. She always plays the victim. This stage isn’t even high—there’s no way she hurt herself. She just wants attention.”
My son nodded. “Auntie’s right. My mom always exaggerates. Just ignore her. She’ll stop once she realizes no one’s watching.”
No one helped me. No one cared. They continued their cheerful photoshoot while I crawled, crying, out of the studio—dragging my injured leg to the hospital on my own.
Just as they finished casting my broken leg, Luke stormed into the room, his expression furious.
“Joanna, how could you be so vicious?! It was just a bracelet for a photo and now you’ve poisoned it? Camila’s in the ICU with a full-body allergic reaction!”
I shook my head weakly. “I didn’t…”
Before I could finish, he hurled the bracelet to the ground.
“You love this bracelet, don’t you? I’ll make sure you really treasure it now!”
My heart cracked. Ignoring the IV in my arm, I dragged myself off the bed and crawled to gather the shattered pieces.
He stared down at me in disgust. “Thanks to you, we can’t even go to Italy anymore. Don’t show yourself around me. Just looking at you makes me sick.”
Tears blurred my vision as I picked up the broken bits of my mother’s bracelet.
Outside the room, I heard laughter.
“Honey, that was brilliant. Now we don’t have to take her on the trip.”
“Even though she said she wouldn’t come, I didn’t believe her. Only by making a scene and completely cutting ties would she stay away.”
I stopped, frozen. I had already told them I wouldn’t go. I was giving them space. And yet, they still didn’t trust me.
They crushed my mother’s last gift and blamed me for everything.
How despicable.
If that’s the way they want to play, then I won’t hold back either.
The day after my hospital discharge, I returned home and opened my safe.
Inside were five property deeds: the house I shared with Luke, my son’s wedding home, the secret house he gifted to Camila… All under my name. All earned by me.
I called a real estate agent and told him, “Sell them all. I don’t care about the price, just do it within six days.”
He agreed.
Six days later, every single property had been sold. I had the entire family’s luggage thrown out onto the street.
Then, a large sum of money appeared in my bank account—more than enough for me to enjoy the rest of my life.
I went to the office, retrieved my passport and booked a flight out of the country.
On the way to the airport, I stopped by a courier service and handed them five neatly packed parcels.
They were addressed to:
– Luke Rivera
– James Rivera
– Lia Grone
– Peter Rivera
– Camila Jenkins
One final gift from me.
I think they’ll like it.
At the airport, while checking in, I saw them returning from Italy. They were all smiling, cheerful, clearly having enjoyed themselves.
My grandson clung to Camila’s hand, full of affection.
“Auntie, I don’t want to leave you! I don’t want to go home to that pig. I want to be with you forever!”
Camila giggled. “Then Auntie will visit you every day, alright? As long as I’m here, that pig won’t come near you.”
They all laughed, casting mocking glances around them.
I laughed too—but mine was one of freedom.
As they wished, they would never see me again.
Luke suddenly turned, sensing my presence.
But it was too late.
I had already boarded the plane.
As we soared through the clouds, I stared out the window and let out a long breath.
Finally… I was free.
