My parents always favored my sister, Madeline. When she abandoned her baby, I took care of him. Despite raising Brandon as my own, my parents still hated me. Years later, they unexpectedly showed up at my door—the last people I ever wanted to see.


Growing up, I always knew my parents preferred my older sister, Madeline, over me. While they showered her with attention and affection, I was left behind. My birthdays were simple affairs compared to the lavish celebrations Madeline received. It hurt, especially because Madeline reveled in this favoritism, even laughing when I got blamed for her misdeeds.

No matter what happened, I was punished for things she did. I quickly learned to fend for myself, carrying the weight of chores while my sister enjoyed a carefree life. My father would yell at me for the smallest things, but Madeline never got scolded. I began working part-time in secret, saving up to leave the moment I turned 18.

When I was 16, Madeline announced she was pregnant. Instead of panic or anger, my parents were delighted at the prospect of a grandchild. Madeline, however, wanted nothing to do with the baby and even suggested an abortion. But my parents convinced her to keep it. It was the first time I saw them upset with her, though they quickly turned their attention to me. Without asking, they assumed I’d help care for the baby. I had no choice.

Madeline gave birth to a baby boy, Brandon, and for the first few days, she made a minimal effort to care for him. But soon, she went back to her old ways, partying and leaving me to raise Brandon alone. Despite their promises, my parents refused to help, and it became clear they didn’t like Brandon either. I dropped out of school to take care of him but continued studying for my G.E.D. while working part-time.

One day, Madeline came home and announced she was leaving to travel with her new boyfriend. Without any hesitation, she abandoned her baby. When I asked my parents what would happen to Brandon, they told me to stop bothering them. That day, I realized I was truly alone. I decided to leave, taking Brandon with me. I moved out, got a small place, and worked tirelessly to provide for him. Despite the struggles, I loved Brandon as if he were my own son. I signed up for online college and eventually found a great support system of friends.

Years later, I met Dallas, a wonderful man who adored Brandon. We talked about getting married after he graduated from law school. Things were going well until Madeline showed up one day, demanding to see Brandon. She claimed he was her child, but I stood firm and told her no. She yelled, calling me horrible, but Dallas stepped in, and she eventually left. I later found out she only wanted Brandon back to get government benefits.

Dallas’ father, a lawyer, helped me secure legal guardianship of Brandon. Madeline returned once more with my parents, all demanding to see Brandon, but there was nothing they could do legally. They left, and Madeline disappeared again, likely for good.

In the end, I realized that family isn’t always blood. Brandon is my son in every way that matters, and with Dallas by my side, we’re building a future filled with love—something my parents and Madeline never gave me.


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