The Discarded Daughter's Rise

Gale Kaaya

Modern | Completed

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Christmas morning should have been filled with joy, but for me, it was the day my hard work, my straight-A report card, was ripped to shreds by my father. Instead of comfort, my own paternal grandmother slapped me, calling me a "bad omen" just like my mother, Brenda. My mother, a paralegal who valued appearances, had vanished weeks prior, only for divorce papers to appear. Soon after, my father dumped me at a bus station, tossing a few crumpled bills and driving off, telling me not to call him, even in an emergency. Hours passed, the cold seeping into my bones, every hopeful car not hers, until finally, it was my Grandma Rose who saved me, wrapping me in a hug that smelled of cinnamon and soap. But the truth soon crushed me: my mother hadn't wanted me, and my grandmother, with her meager social security, had to invent "gifts from your mom" to keep my hope alive. Just when I thought I had a haven, Brenda reappeared, engaged to a wealthy businessman, dragging me back into her world of superficiality and ridicule. Life with them became a new hell, culminating in a public slap from my mother for making her "look bad" and finally, being thrown out onto the street with nothing but a small bag. I walked for miles, desperate to get back to Grandma Rose, the only person who had ever truly loved me. And then, just weeks before my SATs, she collapsed, needing an expensive surgery my parents coldly refused to fund, forcing me to sacrifice my future for her. She passed, leaving me heartbroken, but also with a cold, clear rage burning inside me. When my mother brazenly reappeared after Grandma' s funeral, complaining about the "inconvenience" of her death and scoffing at my efforts, something inside me snapped. I was done being a victim. I stood up, my voice dangerously quiet, and told her to get out, but not before she paid what she owed me. I sued both my parents for years of neglect, studied relentlessly, and when I emerged as the state's top SAT scorer, exposing their hypocrisy to the world. Years later, as a successful investment banker, I faced them again, broken and desperate for money, and coolly repeated their own words back: "That's not my problem." Now, holding my daughter, Rose, a child I chose to have on my own terms, I realized I had not only broken the cycle but built a new legacy of unconditional love.

Family Revenge Pregnancy Female-centered Personal growth

Chapter 10

01-06 20:34

Introduction

Christmas morning should have been filled with joy, but for me, it was the day my hard work, my straight-A report card, was ripped to shreds by my father.

Instead of comfort, my own paternal grandmother slapped me, calling me a "bad omen" just like my mother, Brenda.

My mother, a paralegal who valued appearances, had vanished weeks prior, only for divorce papers to appear.

Soon after, my father dumped me at a bus station, tossing a few crumpled bills and driving off, telling me not to call him, even in an emergency.

Hours passed, the cold seeping into my bones, every hopeful car not hers, until finally, it was my Grandma Rose who saved me, wrapping me in a hug that smelled of cinnamon and soap.

But the truth soon crushed me: my mother hadn't wanted me, and my grandmother, with her meager social security, had to invent "gifts from your mom" to keep my hope alive.

Just when I thought I had a haven, Brenda reappeared, engaged to a wealthy businessman, dragging me back into her world of superficiality and ridicule.

Life with them became a new hell, culminating in a public slap from my mother for making her "look bad" and finally, being thrown out onto the street with nothing but a small bag.

I walked for miles, desperate to get back to Grandma Rose, the only person who had ever truly loved me.

And then, just weeks before my SATs, she collapsed, needing an expensive surgery my parents coldly refused to fund, forcing me to sacrifice my future for her.

She passed, leaving me heartbroken, but also with a cold, clear rage burning inside me.

When my mother brazenly reappeared after Grandma' s funeral, complaining about the "inconvenience" of her death and scoffing at my efforts, something inside me snapped.

I was done being a victim.

I stood up, my voice dangerously quiet, and told her to get out, but not before she paid what she owed me.

I sued both my parents for years of neglect, studied relentlessly, and when I emerged as the state's top SAT scorer, exposing their hypocrisy to the world.

Years later, as a successful investment banker, I faced them again, broken and desperate for money, and coolly repeated their own words back: "That's not my problem."

Now, holding my daughter, Rose, a child I chose to have on my own terms, I realized I had not only broken the cycle but built a new legacy of unconditional love.