(Grace’s POV)
I don’t know what to feel anymore. When I was little and didn’t know the woman I called mom wasn’t my mother, I always thought something was wrong with me. That was why my mother didn’t like me.
After all, no mother would dislike her child unless something was wrong with the child.
And because my mother disliked-no, scratch that. Because my mother hated me, I grew up believing something was wrong with me. Then I found out my mother was never my mother, but a housemaid who stole me from my family.
Though confused, that twist cleared the gloom from my life. Suddenly, it made sense why she didn’t like me, and I realized the problem was never me, but her.
Or so I thought, until my birth parents disowned me, their own flesh and blood, just to give the inheritance my grandmoth
