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I tossed them on the floor. Everything went dark, blood streaming down.
"You're really doing this to guilt-trip Chloe? Even gouging your own eyes out!"
I turned toward his voice. "I kept my end. Now you keep yours."
Noah gritted his teeth, made a call, and within minutes, a divorce certificate hit my lap.
He hissed, "Mia, you're worthless now. Don't ever bother me again."
I had the system verify the divorce was real, then smiled.
I wouldn't be back. I hated him as much as he hated me.
I refused an ambulance — staff at the government hall bandaged my eyes to stop the bleeding.
My third son, Ethan, wasn't someone I could just visit.
I asked the system to teleport me to him.
When I appeared in his dressing room, he panicked and threw makeup at me.
"You b**ch! How dare you show your face!"
A glass jar hit me hard. My lips swelled instantly.
Hearing him curse, I laughed.
B**ch?
Sure enough, I was the b**ch who drove him to art school for years.
Ethan was born with weak legs. He couldn't walk at three.
Everyone said I should give him up. Even Joel and Noah resented their "useless" brother.
But I worked his muscles, supported him as we walked through the city.
He loved singing and dancing. I drove him three hours daily after school to lessons.
That's how he became a superstar now.
But like his brothers, he left me when Chloe showed up.
"Chloe can dance. Can you?"
"Chloe plays piano. Can you?"
"Can you tell filet from tenderloin? Do you know how to buy designer couture?"
"I'm a celebrity. I go to high-class places. If people knew I had a hick mom, I'd be a joke."
I compromised: I'd stay out of the spotlight, never tell anyone we're related. But he couldn't call Chloe his mom.
Ethan got even angrier.
"You're just vain and selfish, like Joel and Noah said!"
"Guess what? Chloe never asked me to call her mom. I chose to!"
After that, Ethan never came home.
I went backstage at his shows. When being asked who I was, he shoved me down and spat.
"Some b**ch!"
Fans thought I was a stalker and beat me up.
Seeing me after three years, Ethan looked disgusted and called security.
"If you throw me out, I'll tell everyone online that Chloe isn't your mom, and that she's a home-wrecker who ran off with a married man!"
It was the first time I'd been so harsh. Ethan's face turned red.
"What do you want?!"
"I want my song back."
Ethan's biggest hit was a song called "My Beloved".
But no one knew — my real mother wrote it.
