Chapter 1

At our family dinner, I joyfully announced my pregnancy.

My mom immediately proposed to my husband:

"Jackson, let me find you a young, sexy nanny. Claire's lazy by nature and now that she's pregnant, she'll be even less willing to do anything. A little nanny could handle the housework and take care of your sexual needs too!"

My husband nearly choked on my mom's words.

I angrily slammed down my folks:

"Mom, what kind of joke is that!"

My mom glared at me:

"I'm not joking. When I was pregnant with you, your dad was sleeping around. All men cheat, so why should your husband be any different!"

A wave of anger surged through me.

Just because her husband cheated, mine had to cheat too?

Jackson sat there squirming. He nervously wiped the sweat from his forehead, then grabbed my hand.

"Mom, please don't test me like this. I promise I'll never do anything to hurt Claire!"

My mom's smile froze on her face.

Jealousy spread rapidly from the depths of her eyes.

"My foolish child, Claire has already done things to hurt you. Why should you be faithful to her!"

My eyes widened. I could barely believe my ears.

"Mom, what are you talking about? I've never done anything to hurt Jackson!"

My mom glared at me triumphantly. As if she'd been prepared for this, she pulled a crumpled piece of homework paper from her bag.

She handed the paper to Jackson, lowering her voice:

"This is a love letter Claire wrote to a boy in high school. I confiscated it after I found it, and I made a hundred copies and posted them all over their school."

"Writing love letters to men at eighteen—I could never do something so slutty. You know what this means? It means Claire wasn't a virgin mentally. She was already a damaged good when she got with you."

My mom sneered.

Her expression was nothing but contempt.

I clenched my fists, letting my nails dig into my palms.

My nails scraped blood from the flesh, burning hot, but I didn't feel any pain.

Those painful memories had already drowned me...

Growing up, "I never had that, so why should you?" was my mom's constant refrain.

"I never wore a bra when I was young—why should you! Just wrap yourself in a piece of cloth."

"I won't buy you sanitary pads. Nobody bought them for me when I was young—why should you use ones I buy? Figure it out yourself!"

I had no new clothes, no bra, not even sanitary pads.

When I was eighteen, a thoughtful boy in my class noticed my situation. Blushing, he gave me a bunch of feminine products.

He quietly told me that if I ever had difficulties, I should come to him.

I was so touched. I wrote him a thank-you note.

But my mom insisted it was a love letter. She said I was shameless, that the boy bought me sanitary pads because I'd slept with him.

My mom dragged me to a clinic for a virginity test.

After getting the result that my hymen was intact, she looked dazed—even disappointed.

But quickly, my mom changed her story:

"So what if you're physically a virgin? You wrote love letters to a man at eighteen—you're not a virgin mentally! You're worthless trash who'll never deserve a good man."

"I was pure when I married your bastard father. You're damaged goods, so you only deserve to marry trash in this life!"

My mom took my thank-you note and rewrote it into an explicit, seductive love letter.

She posted a hundred copies around the school for everyone to see.

After that, the boy avoided me like I was dangerous.

My classmates mocked and despised me.

I had no friends. Even the teacher who'd believed in me most began treating me with disgust.

Later, I got into a top university.

My career got better and better. I earned more and more.

My mom even apologized for what she'd done.

She said she was just afraid I'd date too early in high school and ruin my future, ruin my life.

I thought she'd finally changed. But now, she was bringing up old wounds again, slandering me in front of my husband!