Every struggle I faced seemed endless until a stranger walked into our lives, promising comfort and peace. But what happens when the line between trust and betrayal blurs? In one whirlwind moment, everything I thought I knew was shattered. Life had been a constant struggle for me since my adoptive parents passed away. Raising my six-year-old daughter, Isla, in our small, modest house was an uphill battle. Every day felt like an endless cycle of exhaustion. I woke up at 5 a.m., my body protesting as I dragged myself out of bed. “Time to get up, sweetheart,” I whispered to Isla, brushing a stray hair from her cheek.
She stirred, her little eyes blinking up at me with a sleepy smile. It was moments like these that made everything worth it, yet they did little to lighten the heavy load I carried. Mornings were always a whirlwind. I scrambled to make breakfast—usually toast with a bit of jam or cereal on days when we were running late.“Mom, can I have extra jam today?”“Just a little, okay? We have to save some for tomorrow,” I said, kissing her forehead.After dropping her off at school, I rushed to my first job, barely making it on time. The work was grueling, and the pay was just enough to cover the basics. Evenings were no better.