They’ll be on Their Knees at the Engagement Party

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After twenty years of marriage, my life suddenly collapsed into a living hell.

As it turned out, the twins I had poured my heart and soul into raising weren’t mine at all. They were the boy and girl my husband had with my best friend. Even our marriage certificate had been forged!

Everything unraveled when our son, still in high school, was kidnapped. I risked my life to save him, and when I rushed to donate blood, the doctors told me we weren’t a match.

That’s when Sharice Truitt, my best friend, arrived in a panic and stepped in to donate her blood instead. I was so desperate to save my son I didn’t have time to question anything. I stayed by his bedside for two sleepless days and nights until exhaustion dragged me into a deep sleep.

Then, somewhere between waking and dreaming, I heard voices outside the hospital room door—voices that shattered my world completely.

“Lucky she’s stupid. Nearly twenty years and she never figured it out. Both of you are type A, and the kids are type B. She didn’t even realize your marriage certificate was forged.”

“Exactly. If she hadn’t been dumb enough to raise our kids and take care of the house all these years, how would I have had the time to focus on making money and taking you on trips around the world?”

It was them—Sharice and Rufus Ralston, my husband. Their voices sliced through the air like poisoned blades, destroying every last illusion I had clung to for two decades.

What I thought was happiness turned out to be a carefully constructed lie. My sacrifices were nothing more than stepping stones for their perfect little family of four!

Of course I confronted them in a rage. But instead of remorse, they had the nerve to demand I leave the house with nothing!

And when I looked into the eyes of the husband I had loved and the children I had raised, what stared back was the same brutal indifference. That was the moment I felt my heart die.

Eventually, I left behind the place that had devoured every ounce of my youth and love.

Years later, I adopted a pair of twins from an orphanage. I raised them with all the love I had left.

The boy grew up to become the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. The girl blossomed into a beloved Hollywood star.

But just when I thought the past was behind me, out of nowhere, my so-called son appeared.

Radnor found me sweeping the garden of an estate, and he stared at me with scorn etched across his face.

“If my fiancée hadn’t insisted on inviting you to our engagement party, I wouldn’t have come to get you,” he sneered. “You’re an embarrassment to the Ralstons!”

Then, lifting his chin with pride, he continued, “After you left, Aunt Sharice—no, my mother—officially married Dad. Now I’ve inherited the Raltrex Prime, and my sister’s a top influencer with millions of fans.”

“Look at you,” he drawled, his gaze flicking dismissively to the broom in my hands. “Since leaving Dad, all you’ve amounted to is a lowly maid. You must regret everything now, don’t you?”

I didn’t get mad. I just smiled and said, “Sure, I’ll be there.”

Little did he know—just days later, the entire Ralstons would be on their knees, begging me to come back!

1.

Avalon’s POV

Over a decade had passed. My once-blonde hair had faded into gray.

Radnor, now a grown man in a tailored designer suit, stood before me. He had shed his youthful features, and with a face eerily similar to his father’s, he looked down on me like a king expecting my remorse.

Instead, I simply looked at him and nodded.

“Raltrex Prime’s done reasonably well over the years,” I remarked lightly. After all, they were now a partner under the company of my adopted son Zion.

Still, not everyone could be a prodigy like Zion.

Perhaps it was my indifference—my lack of humiliation or sorrow—that unsettled Radnor. I noticed a flicker of displeasure cross his face.

Yet the moment passed, and his gaze shifted to the villa behind me, then to my plain, dust-colored blouse. The corners of his mouth curled with contempt.

“My fiancée’s parents have seats in Congress,” he said smugly. “Don’t embarrass me at the engagement party next weekend. Try not to dress so… poorly.”

He clearly thought I was the maid. My blouse, though expensive, was understated—easily mistaken by someone who never looked past the surface.

As if to help, he casually tossed an old dress at my feet.

“This belonged to Mommy Sharice. It’s such a nice dress. Secondhand, sure—but more than enough for someone like you.”

As he flung it forward, his fingers brushed my neck, catching on my necklace—an authentic string of pearls worth millions.

The black pearls scattered across the floor, bouncing and rolling away like fallen memories.

For a brief second, surprise flashed in his eyes—perhaps he recognized the real value—but it quickly gave way to mockery.

“Seriously? You thought you could pass off some cheap imitation as real pearls? What a pathetic act.”

He stepped back with mock generosity. “But don’t worry. Since you raised me and Shawna for fifteen years, when you’re old, we’ll make sure to pay you some kind of support.”

Then his voice turned cold. “But let’s be clear: in our eyes, we have only one mom. And that’s Sharice.”

I studied the young man before me. The contempt in his expression was exactly the same as it had been all those years ago.

I remembered that moment vividly—when he was fifteen, lying in a hospital bed, just waking from a coma.

He had grabbed my hand, his grip like iron, and shoved me off the chair beside him.

“I won’t let you ruin Dad and Aunt Sharice’s happiness!” he’d said, glaring. “They were meant to be together. If you hadn’t drugged him and stolen him away, we wouldn’t have had to sneak around like this for all these years!”

The commotion had drawn Sharice into the room. There was unmistakable triumph in her eyes.

From Radnor’s push, I hit the floor head-first. Blood began to drip steadily from my scalp, staining the floor in vivid red.

And yet, no one cared. Without question, they tore off their masks, sided with Sharice, and turned on me.

Then, Radnor burst into tears. “When I was kidnapped,” he said bitterly, “I heard the kidnappers themselves say… It was my real mother who planned it!”

I stared at him in horror. “You’re lying…”

But he clenched his fists, grief and rage written all over his face. “I’m not lying! You’re the liar! You just wanted to frame Aunt Sharice!”

Sharice wrapped her arms around him, dabbing at his tears with practiced tenderness.

“Avalon, you can slander me all you want—but to kidnap your own son just to win Rufus’s sympathy? How could you be so cruel to a child?”

Rufus stood nearby, his face dark with rage. I could see the rage boiling just beneath the surface.

“Avalon,” he said through gritted teeth, “are you even human?! You raised Radnor yourself! How could you do something so wicked?”

I looked at the man defending Sharice and felt nothing but despair.

Yes, I had raised their children. But they were never truly mine. As for my own biological children… I didn’t even know where they were.

When Shawna heard the news, she rushed into the room. Her eyes were red, her voice shrill with fury.

“Get out of our house! We don’t have a mother like you! Sharice is our only mom!”

The two children I had once held so dearly—protected like glass, cherished like sugar on my tongue—had become the very sharp blades in someone else’s grip, stabbing into my heart and leaving it bleeding.

Looking into their eyes, I no longer saw anything that resembled a parent-child bond. All I felt was utter disillusionment.

I stood up from the floor, wiped the blood from my brow, and smiled coldly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you want,” I said coldly. “I’ll pack my things and leave right away.”