Her tears won over the crowd, turning many into instant fans.
One of her fanatical fans stabbed me in the chest when I was on my way to work, landing me in the hospital.
Then, she played the part of the bereaved daughter online, soliciting donations, and emotionlessly signed the form to cease my lifesaving treatment.
After my death, she thrived on the donations while reminiscing about my "motherly love", winning over countless hearts.
Those who had been on the fence became her staunch supporters, advocating for her in every way.
An international director, moved by her tear-streaked confession, chose her as the lead for his next movie.
Even her estranged father reappeared, filling the gap left by my absence.
Me?
My end was so swift; there wasn't even a proper funeral. They just cremated me and dumped my ashes down the sewer.
Her fans called me a blot on Caitlyn's life and even petitioned for my attacker's release, claiming it was a public service.
Schools nationwide used me as a warning in parent-teacher meetings, urging parents not to emulate my behavior.
My husband's family preferred sons and tried to stage an "accident" for Caitlyn, unwilling to spend on her anymore.