“Happy?” My voice cracked. “He’s my son!”
“Then stop making his life miserable just because your husband chose your sister.”
I nearly blacked out from rage. “Excuse me?”
“Emma,” she said slowly, like I was a child. “Lily will love Noah more than you ever could. You’re always so busy—with work, with your endless hospital visits. Maybe this is for the best.”
I gripped the phone so tightly I thought it would shatter. “I swear to God, if you don’t bring my son back—”
“Enough, Emma.” My mother’s voice turned cold. “Stop being selfish.”
Click. The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, my body shaking with rage, with helplessness. I wanted to scream, to throw something, to hurt the way I was hurting. Instead, my fingers moved on their own.
I opened Instagram. And then—
My breath caught in my throat. The first post on my feed was Lily’s. A photo of her and Jason, hands intertwined, her engagement ring front and center.
"Fate brought us together. Love kept us strong. Can’t wait to be Mrs. Romano! ️"
Thousands of likes. Hundreds of comments.
— Omg! Congratulations!
— Didn’t see this coming, but you two look perfect together!
— I always thought Jason married the wrong sister, tbh.