Chapter 1

By the fifth year of that woman hijacking my body, she finally got bored.

She packed up her glitchy system and peaced out of this world without so much as a goodbye. What she left me was a bratty, overindulged son and a husband colder than a Midwest blizzard.

Before I could even piece my thoughts together, a wave of glowing messages—like some livestream chat—flashed before my eyes:

[This has gotta be the worst opening to a novel ever. Who lets a transmigrator come in five years early and screw everything up, just to leave the real wife with the wreckage?]
[She was supposed to reform the little villain, warm up the cold villain husband, and stay away from the main couple. But nooo, she dodged the death flags and spent five years living her best life.]
[Kid’s ruined, husband’s distant, and now I hate the whole damn family. Let ‘em all burn.]

That’s when it hit me: I was a disposable character in a novel. And my husband and kid? Both villains.

The comment stream kept rolling, listing off every terrible thing my son had done.

Rude. Entitled. Selfish. Bullied other kids.

Before I could process it all, I heard a thudding noise on the stairs.

A round little ball of a boy barreled down like a wrecking ball in sneakers.

It was instant. Some kind of mother’s intuition. That was my kid.

He spotted me in the living room but ignored me completely, stomping straight to the fridge.

Behind him, our nanny scrambled after him.

“Liam, honey, that’s your third ice cream today. You’ll get a bellyache, and Mr. Carter’s gonna be mad at me again.”

The kid didn’t even blink.

The nanny turned to me for help.

[Girl, you think the bio mom’s gonna do anything? She’s been gone five years. She’s just gonna spoil him more out of guilt.]
[Am I the only one who thinks the transmigrator was fake as hell? Called it motherly love but just let him run wild. Now the poor kid’s fatter than ever, even lost the only thing going for him—his looks.]
[At this rate he’s gonna grow up drinking, cheating, blowing money, and cursing out his folks.]
[If this little pork dumpling croaked, I wouldn’t even blink.]

That was it. I snapped.

“Liam Carter. Put the ice cream down.”

I remembered the name. Logan and I picked it out eight months into my pregnancy. Gender-neutral. Warm meaning.

Liam looked at me like I was a fly buzzing in his ear.

“You’re so annoying. Mind your own business.”

Then, locking eyes with me, he took a massive bite of the ice cream.

Vanilla smeared across his mouth. His eyes—reduced to slits from the baby fat—squinted smugly.

Then he raised both hands and flipped me double birds.

I saw red.

Spoiling him?

Not on my watch.

I lunged and grabbed the little beast.

“Where’d you learn that, huh? Who taught you to flip people off?!”

“Let go of me! Let go! If you don’t, when Dad gets home you’re dead meat!”

Oh please.

The way he’s turned out, Logan’s getting slapped too.

I told the nanny, still frozen in shock, to go grab me duct tape.

Then I wrapped Liam’s middle fingers up tight.

If he loved giving the finger so much, he could keep it up. Literally.

Liam didn’t cry. Just glared at me like a crab with his taped-up fists.

“When Dad gets back, I’m telling him you abused me! No more allowance for you! Say goodbye to your stupid jewelry!”

“When’s your dad coming back?”

He pouted and stayed silent.

I glanced at Nancy.

“Mr. Carter’s on a business trip in Chicago. Should be back in about a week.”

“And this is normal for him?”

Nancy looked sheepish. “He’s better behaved when his dad’s around.”

I nodded, told her not to untape him under any circumstances, and marched upstairs.

The décor hadn’t changed a bit.

Even the little porcelain horse on the bookshelf—still missing one ear from the time I knocked it off in a rage—sat in the same spot.

Five years ago, right after giving birth, I lost consciousness.

It felt like I was stuck in a dream I couldn’t wake from.

I could hear myself talk, move, act—but it all felt like I was floating behind the scenes.

I thought I’d just been asleep.

Then I saw the comment stream.

Five years had passed.

I walked to the master bedroom, following my memories.

A keypad lock I’d never seen before blocked my way.

[She doesn’t even know the code. That lock was put there just to keep her out.]
[Anyone figure it out yet? The transmigrator tried a bunch—Liam’s birthday, her birthday, Logan’s—but kept triggering the alarm system. Her panicked face was hilarious.]
[No one’s ever even seen Logan’s room.]

I raised an eyebrow and typed in a code I knew by heart.

A chorus of shocked reactions scrolled by as I turned the knob.

Inside, the room looked exactly like it had the day I left for the hospital.

Same furniture. Same pale blue bedding.

Except now, the nightstand held several locked journals.

Guess Logan had gotten used to keeping things behind lock and key.

I picked one up.

Some pages were water-damaged, wrinkled like they’d soaked up tears.

The comments buzzed with curiosity, urging me to crack them open.

I didn’t.

I put them back exactly how I found them.

Because some things… you should be invited to read.

And I wasn’t ready to see what Logan wrote when he thought I was gone.

Chapter 2

When dinner rolled around, Nancy was ready to whip up whatever Liam wanted, but I stopped her.

“Don’t bother. Starting today, he’s on a diet.”

I glanced at his little fists, still wrapped in duct tape.

“He’ll be having a veggie sandwich tonight. No cheese, no meat.”

“What?! Just because I flipped you off, you’re gonna starve me now? That’s child abuse!”

Liam shot back with full-volume protest.

I shook my head and looked him square in the eyes.

“See? You know flipping someone off is wrong. And I’m your mom. You didn’t even apologize. This isn’t a punishment, Liam. It’s about your health.”

He puffed out his cheeks and mumbled something under his breath.

“You’re not even—”

Too quiet to catch, but I doubted it was anything good.

Midway through dinner, Liam gestured for me to take off the tape.

“You gonna flip me off again?”

He didn’t meet my gaze. “No.”

Then added quietly, “Sorry…”

[Not gonna lie, Emily’s got a talent for taming wild kids.]
[If he hadn’t apologized, his fingers would’ve gone numb.]
[More! I need more of this.]
[Though… isn’t she worried about Logan flipping when he gets back? The transmigrator totally wore down his feelings. He might blow up this time.]

Logan flipping out?

Honestly… kinda hope he does.

Whether Logan would explode remained to be seen. But Liam? He cracked first.

He looked at the lettuce-and-egg sandwich like it was radioactive.

“This? This is dinner?!”

I nodded. I hadn’t gone full boiled egg on him—yet. Baby steps.

“I want BBQ ribs!”

“Then you better get used to being hungry.”

Liam narrowed his eyes, huffed dramatically, then jumped off his chair and stormed off.

I sighed, stood up, nodded at Nancy, and grabbed a trash bag.

Time to hunt for hidden snacks.

I caught him mid-squat behind the bed, butt in the air, munching on a bag of chips.

As the stash hit the trash bag one by one, Liam’s hands trembled.

“You’re breaking the rules of engagement!”

I ignored him.

Panicking, he shoved the last of the chips into his mouth and chewed like his life depended on it.

I left the room. He sighed in relief—way too soon.

I hit the media room. Then the mini office.

Nice try, kid. Diversification won’t save you. I used to run this playbook myself.

This time, Liam broke.

“Nooo! Please, spare the snacks! I’m begging you!”

“That’s my limited edition snack box! I saved my allowance for months to buy it! I’ve never even opened it!”

“Take my soul, not my snacks!”

“Snacks! What am I supposed to live for without you?!”

He was full-on sobbing now, hiccuping and whimpering.

[Okay that was hilarious. Fat kid meltdown, but cute.]
[Usually I hate whiny kids, but Liam cries in baby whispers. Not the banshee wails. I’m still in.]
[Real talk—maybe deep down, he knew the transmigrator wasn’t really his mom…]
[Whoa. That last comment hit different.]

I knelt down and patted his back.

“We’re not throwing them away, Liam. Just keeping them somewhere safe. You’ll get them back. But only if you start eating real food first.”

He froze mid-sniffle, then slowly leaned his head on my shoulder, little hands clutching my shirt.

“Mom?”

“Yeah, baby. I got you.”

After that snack drama, Liam actually started behaving better.

But his snack-thieving habits? Still going strong.

By day two, we’d gone toe-to-toe at least three hundred times.

Then I pulled out the big guns.

“Okay, Liam. You want snacks? Fine. But for every bite, you gotta burn the calories. Deal?”

He scoffed. “Sure. Whatever.”

That night, I wheeled out a plastic ride-on car. You know, the ones shaped like a Little Tikes Cozy Coupe.

Liam’s eyes lit up. “Is that for me?!”

I smiled sweetly.

Then sat down in it.

He blinked. “Oh… um, you can go first, Mom.”

Still smiling, I grabbed a belt and some rope, tying them around his waist.

“Today you had two bags of chips, one pint of ice cream, spicy Cheetos, two Hershey’s bars, and a cupcake.”

“A light walk won’t cut it. So let’s start a fun, heartwarming parent-child bonding exercise.”

Yup.

The bonding exercise was Liam pulling me in that car around the neighborhood.

“But I’m a kid!”

“And? You want snacks or nah?”

Silence.

Then Liam leaned forward.

And started pulling.

Face scrunched, legs waddling.

Liam Carter: toddler, snack addict, human sled dog.

Chapter 3

After the weekend, Nancy dropped Liam off at preschool.

With a rare chunk of quiet time, I sat down to review the state of our company.

Logan and I had co-founded it years ago—he handled the tech side, I did PR and marketing.

Logan was a classic introvert. Brilliant, but allergic to people.

Still, somehow, five years later, the company was thriving. Our stock value had skyrocketed. My own dividends had tripled.

It was a relief. Even if Logan and I fell apart, at least I’d have something solid to fall back on.

I dove into the internet, trying to catch up on the last five years of trends and data. I was even eyeing a few solid investment leads when my phone buzzed.

“Is this Liam Carter’s parent?”

“Liam was involved in an altercation at school. The other child’s parent is already here. Please come immediately.”

[Oh snap. Here it comes—the classic “just when you thought things were fine” plot twist.]
[Maybe it’s a misunderstanding? Liam just got disciplined, he wouldn’t act out again… right?]
[Nope. I saw the whole thing. Kid’s just mean. Born bad.]
[Ugh, this whole family’s a disaster. But hey, if he picked on Mia Scott, he’s about to learn what karma looks like.]
[That chubby little menace thinks money solves everything. Wait till he finds out Mia’s dad is Ethan freaking Scott. One call and the Carter family’s done.]

I raised an eyebrow. Noted the name: Mia Scott.

When I arrived, Liam was standing in the corner, head down, silent.

Across the room, a graceful woman sat with a little girl on her lap, whispering soothing words.

The teacher wasted no time. She pulled up the surveillance footage.

Apparently it wasn’t a full-blown fight, but Liam had definitely shoved the girl.

I knelt beside him.

“Did she say something mean to you?”

Liam shook his head.

“Did she hurt you when no one was looking? Or do something to make you feel bad?”

He thought about it, then shook his head again.

[Girl, stop. Mia was just minding her business playing with blocks. Liam stormed over, started talking to her, and when she ignored him, he shoved her.]
[I feel so helpless. Like I wanna reach through the screen and smack him myself.]
[This is why parenting matters. If that were my kid, I’d have already dragged him out by the ear.]

Even though the peanut gallery had explained it all, I still asked gently, “Why did you do it, then?”

Liam wouldn’t meet my eyes.

I patted his head and let it go.

I walked over to Mia’s mom and apologized sincerely, letting her know we’d cover all the medical bills, any missed work, and even snacks if needed.

The woman looked startled, then visibly relaxed. She probably expected me to be a nightmare mom.

Instead, I was calm, cooperative.

Later that afternoon, I signed Liam out early. Just as we were about to leave, the teacher pulled me aside.

“Ms. Carter, this isn’t the first time Liam’s been aggressive. Usually, it’s boys—typical roughhousing—but now he’s turning on the girls too. Look, I know you’ve been sending the nanny, and I get it. Life’s busy. But when you have a kid, that’s a responsibility you can’t outsource.”

…

Outside the classroom, Liam was waiting, lips pressed tight, eyes darting up at me nervously.

He probably expected a scolding.

But I didn’t say a word.

Back home, everything was normal. Dinner, chores, bedtime.

Except Liam kept checking on me. Every few minutes, he’d peek in, like I might explode at any second.

At dinner, he didn’t challenge me. Ate his vegetables. His protein. Even the quinoa.

During our walk, he offered to pull the car again.

I waved him off. “You didn’t overeat today. No need for extra cardio.”

He lowered his head and whispered, “Okay.”

Seeing him like that? It gave me hope.

At least my kid wasn’t beyond saving.