But Tanya Cook, my stepmother, would stop my dad from comforting me and say,
“A child shouldn’t be spoiled. She needs to learn to stand on her own.”
Tanya only got really worked up when I actually got hurt. She’d fuss over me like she cared.
“Oh no, you’re bleeding! I told you to be careful! Didn’t you listen to me?”
She even told my teachers that I had some rare hereditary condition that made me bleed easily. And of course, she mentioned that I had Rh-negative blood.
The other girls envied me for getting out of gym class. They all thought I had the best mom ever.
But I knew the truth. I didn’t have any hereditary disease.
The real issue was Tanya.
She didn’t care about me, but just the blood I lost.
And she definitely wasn’t my mom.
My real mom’s name was Bella Fuller. She visited me every night, sitting by my bed and telling me stories.
Even as a little girl, I had already started plotting my revenge.
My mom, Bella, was an orphan, raised by the kindness of many families.
When she got to college, she started donating blood regularly.
That’s where she met my stepmother, Tanya, who was volunteering at the blood drive.
“Wow, what a coincidence!” Tanya had said. “We have the same blood type, and we even go to the same school!”
They became close friends, and Tanya even introduced her brother to my mom.
The day they met, my mom was wearing a simple white dress, her hair naturally curled.
When she smiled, it was like everything around her faded, leaving Tanya, despite her bold features and striking beauty, suddenly less radiant.
A rich boy was falling for a girl from humble beginnings. It was a perfect love story.
But there was a twist. Tanya had a hereditary condition that required regular blood transfusions.
My mom, being both her best friend and now her sister-in-law, never hesitated to donate.
It wasn’t until later that my mom learned the truth. Tanya wasn’t actually related to my dad.
She was the daughter of my grandmother’s best friend, who had asked my dad’s family to take care of her before she passed.
Tanya had grown up alongside my dad, more like siblings, but they weren’t really related.
As Tanya’s health improved, my mom’s started to decline.
Every time Tanya needed blood, my mom grew weaker. When Tanya needed another transfusion, my mom hesitated for the first time.
Tanya collapsed into my dad’s arms, sobbing,