Introduction

The doctor' s words hit me like a cold gavel: six months left to live. My life's purpose, my son David, would inherit everything I' d worked for. My life was dedicated to him, every penny saved, so he and his family would never worry.

On Christmas Eve, after preparing a giant feast, David called, claiming they were stuck in traffic. Then I overheard his wife, Jessica, and David himself, laughing about my "stuffy little house" from his biological father Daniel's mansion, discussing how they needed to ensure David was in my will.

A cold dread seeped into my bones as I listened to them tear me apart. Jessica hissed that I held David back, keeping him from his "real, successful father." David, my son, replied with a deep resentment, wishing he were a Hayes, not a Miller.

The phone clicked dead. The love that had defined my existence went cold. I had worked two jobs, sold my mother' s jewelry, and sacrificed my retirement for him, only to be called selfish and an obstacle.

If I was just a will to him, then I would write a new one. My quiet rebellion had begun.