Kerry’s POV
In the sixth year of marrying into the Beckhams as a stepmother, we finally took our very first family portrait.
When the photo was developed, I was overjoyed and hurried to show it to my son.
But he turned his head away in disgust.
“Honestly, you’re embarrassing,” he muttered.
My hand, which had been about to hang the picture, froze in midair.
“And you don’t even understand when people are being kind to you,” he added coldly.
Before I could react, he went on speaking to himself.
“Sure, you take good care of me and Daddy every day. But you’ll never be as good as Auntie Liv. She dresses better than you, she never loses her temper, and whenever we go out, everyone says I have such a pretty mommy. Most importantly… she looks just like my real mommy.”
Only then did I realize—he was mad because I had refused to let Liv join us in the family portrait.
Instinctively, my eyes shifted toward the doorway, to where Hurley was standing. He knew very well that outsiders didn’t belong in a family portrait. Just one explanation from him, and our son would no longer hold it against me.
But instead, Hurley said calmly, as if soothing me, “Ever since he was little, he’s never had a mother. It’s normal for him to like someone who resembles her more than you. You should be more understanding.”
Understanding?
But being understanding, carried on for years, would get exhausting.
In the end, I did something that finally made me feel lighter.
I left both Hurley and his son behind.
…
“Kerry, are you really leaving? Cronan is only six. He needs a mother’s love the most right now. If you go, what will happen to him in the future?”
In the living room, Willa’s hesitant voice came through the phone.
I lowered my eyes, staring at the discarded family portrait on the table.
I answered evenly. “Mom, I only married Hurley to repay your kindness. Now that Cronan is six, he can take care of himself. Besides, Liv got his back. He hasn’t needed me for a long time.”
My mother and Willa had been best friends. After my parents died in an accident, leaving only me and a small golden dog behind, Willa felt sorry for me, took me in, and raised me as her own.
Her real daughter, Evie, treated me like a real sister.
When Evie passed away, in turn, I volunteered to take care of her son, Cronan.
Willa hadn’t wanted to bind me with gratitude forever, but she also wanted her grandson to have a complete family.
To be fair, she and I signed an agreement: as long as I stayed married to Hurley for six years, I would be free afterward.
And now, only one day remained before the six years were up.
I had already made up my mind to leave.
Before Willa could reply, a sharp sting pricked the back of my head.
I turned around—only to meet Cronan’s hostile glare. At some point, he had crept up behind me and struck me hard with a feather duster.
He stood with his arms crossed, his eyes full of contempt.
“So what, just because I praised Auntie Liv a few times, you went running to complain to my grandma? Shame on you!” he began.
“Auntie Liv has way more right to take a family photo with me and Daddy. She doesn’t just look like my mommy. She’s also just as capable as Mommy was. Not like you, some washed-out housewife who can’t do anything except laze around at home!”
His words were sharp as knives. I had heard such things countless times, but my chest still ached from the cut of them.
I tugged the corner of my lips into a faint smile and nonchalantly replied, “You’re right. From now on, let her be your mother.”
For a moment, the boy’s eyes flickered with surprise.
The next second, Hurley’s cold voice cut in.
“Kerry! What nonsense are you spouting again? Liv would never act like this. No wonder our son prefers her over you.”
At some point, he had finished his work and stepped out of the study, striding toward me with a dark expression.
“I’m serious,” I replied quietly.
“Ha!” Cronan sneered. “If you really meant it, you wouldn’t have stopped Auntie Liv from taking the photo with us this morning. Now, you’re just saying that ‘cause you want attention from both me and Daddy!”
His face twisted in anger as he raised the feather duster and began striking me again, this time with far more force.
“You filthy woman! Did you think we’d fall for your games? I’ve had enough of you! I have to stand up for Auntie Liv!”
Each blow landed harder than the last, until one jab struck my left eye.
I sucked in a sharp breath, grabbed the feather duster, and yanked it from his hands.
Caught off guard, he stumbled and fell to the floor, bursting into loud cries.
His father rushed forward immediately, shoving me aside to cradle him in his arms.
Hurley glared at me, his voice filled with fury. “Are you insane? You’re an adult, bullying a child? Liv would never lay a hand on him!”
I gave a faint laugh, then tossed the family portrait into the trash.
“That’s why I’m choosing to step aside.”
A flicker of surprise flashed across Hurley’s eyes, as though he wanted to say something. But just then, the front door opened.
Liv walked in, carrying a bowl. She froze at the scene before her, then quickly hurried over and scooped Cronan into her arms, coaxing him tenderly.
“There, Cronan, don’t cry. Who bullied you? Tell Auntie.”
The moment he saw her, his wails grew louder, as though he had suffered some unbearable grievance.
Pointing a finger at me, he accused through sobs, “It was that bad woman! She hit me!”
At his words, Liv turned to me, her brows knitting in disapproval. Her voice was that of a self-righteous teacher scolding a student.
“Mrs. Beckham, that was wrong of you. Sure, this boy is a little naughty, but you can’t resort to violence.”
She spoke as though she were the true lady of this house.
And perhaps she already was. After all, the password lock had her fingerprint, giving her free access whenever she pleased.
Meanwhile, I—the one who had toiled for the Beckhams for years—still had to report to Hurley whenever I left the house. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t even be allowed back in.
