My Mother’s Name is Margarette — Novel

About

In a world where love and betrayal intertwine, Marla finds herself reeling from the shocking truth about Ezail, the boy she rescued from the streets. With a heart condition that weighs heavily on her, she devoted herself to a relationship built on trust, only to discover that her boyfriend is not the lost soul she thought he was, but the heir to a powerful family. As secrets unravel, the glimmer of their once bright romance fades, revealing a stark contrast between her humble existence and the life he now embraces.

When Holley, Ezail’s childhood friend, steps in with her taunts and a ring that symbolizes everything Marla has lost, the stakes rise. As betrayal cuts deeper, Marla must confront not only her shattered dreams but also the haunting memories of a mother who never cared. With every painful realization, she grapples with what it means to be loved and how easily it can be taken away.

Can Marla reclaim her identity and find a way to heal, or will she remain trapped in the shadows of those who once claimed to care for her? As she faces the remnants of her past and the harsh truths of her present, the question lingers: is love worth the risk of heartbreak?

My Mother’s Name is MargaretteChapter 1

My boyfriend was someone I found on the streets—lost, down on his luck, and pitiful, much like an abandoned dog. While I struggled with my heart condition, working hard just to make ends meet, he lived a carefree life.

But things changed one day when I was working part-time as a waitress in a five-star hotel. There, standing in a high-end suit, was Ezail, staring at me in disbelief.

“Ezail, aren’t you supposed to be at home?” I asked, glancing at his neatly pressed suit. He fit right in with the luxury of the hotel, while I stood there in a shabby uniform, stained with red wine from a difficult customer earlier.

Just an hour ago, he had told me to come back for dinner, and now here he was, looking like someone completely out of my reach.

“Marla, let me explain. My friend brought me here…” Ezail, clearly flustered, reached for my hand, giving it a small shake—the signal we used when asking for forgiveness. But this time, after the initial shock, I pulled away. The sight of him in the suit I’d promised to buy him, wearing the tie I’d saved up for, was a slap in the face.