I don't love my son

The Gold Digger and My Deadbeat Son

My son, Kevin, fell head over heels for a woman eighteen years older than him – a total leech with a gaggle of younger siblings. He ignored all my warnings, secretly got hitched to her. They schemed together, bled me dry, selling off everything I owned to buy her brothers houses, cars, and pay for their weddings. Then, just because they found me inconvenient, they tossed me off a cliff without a second thought.

Now, reborn, Kevin's back in my face, whining about marrying this gold digger.

"Fine, you two deserve each other," I say, laying it on thick with sarcasm. "Age? Background? Who cares? True love conquers all! Go for it!"

…

"So what if she's eighteen years older, from some hick town, been married three times, and has to babysit four younger brothers?"

"Tiffany is so sweet, so kind, so down to earth, she does everything for her family, giving her brothers the best.

"Unlike you, you’re so money-hungry, so heartless! You sued your dad for back child support after he hadn’t paid in three years, causing my dad and grandma to disown me!"

"She’s pregnant, carrying my baby. I’m marrying her, no questions asked!"

Kevin, my twenty-two-year-old son, was cuddling Tiffany, who’s a solid forty, just two years younger than me.

Seeing him again, I felt that familiar agony rip through my entire body.

When he was seven, he’d had a terrible case of viral encephalitis. I almost lost him.

I even lost my job, staying by his side at the hospital.

That's when my ex-husband, his father, cheated on me, hid all our assets, and filed for divorce. He had a six-year-old bastard child, and no intentions of wanting a sick kid like Kevin.

I couldn’t afford a drawn-out legal battle, so I begged him, on my knees, to at least leave me the money to cover Kevin's medical bills. I wouldn’t contest anything else.

After Kevin got better, he was a moody, withdrawn kid because he had no father around. I’d bend over backwards trying to make him happy.

Expensive sneakers, designer clothes, fancy bags – I got them.

The latest game consoles – I bought them.

Imported fruit and seafood – I got it all.

I worked my ass off to give him everything I could, wanting to show him that even though he grew up in a single-parent household, he'd never have less than anyone else!

I developed a bad stomach because of my hectic and irregular eating habits.

Kevin never seemed to care, only complaining that I was too strict, that I controlled him too much.

Meanwhile, his dad and his mistress would see him maybe twice a year, say a few sweet nothings, let him eat some cheap junk food, and Kevin would be so grateful, thinking his dad was the best.

Last time around, I figured he’d grow up and eventually see the difference between empty words and genuine love.

But all I got was Kevin dragging Tiffany to my doorstep, demanding my blessing for their marriage.

My meticulously raised son, wanting to marry a woman eighteen years older, with three ex-husba...