When I gave birth to Stacey, I took care of our daughter all by myself. There were days when I was so sick, yet Max didn’t even bother to check on me. He just left me there, ill; I nearly died when he refused to buy my medicine.
Luckily, I survived those storms. My daughter became my strength. I stood on my own feet and saved myself. I never depended on Max again because I realized he didn’t care about me.
He showed more concern for my stepsister, Lalaina, reminding me constantly how much more important she was to him.
Even on his own daughter's birthday, he couldn't spare the time to celebrate, let alone give her a gift. But when it came to Lalaina, he showered her with everything as if he'd plucked the moon from the sky for her.
Well, Lalaina was right—Max never loved me or my daughter, and I accepted that. I didn’t want to force myself on him anymore.
I felt resolved, ready to take my luggage and leave, but I paused when I heard Lalaina speak about me.
"Max, your wife is always jealous of me. Can’t you see? She’s so obsessed and wants to control your feelings. Now, she’s using her daughter to play with us. She even poisoned Stacey," Lalaina muttered.