I Fixed His Martyr Mom With My High Self-Worth Chapter 01

I Fixed His Martyr Mom With My High Self-Worth Chapter 01

My mom raised me to think I’m the best thing since sliced bread.

Back in school, my copycat roommate bought the exact same outfit as me and then had the gall to ask if it made her look fat.

I just shrugged.

“No clue. I’ve got a killer figure, so I wouldn’t know.”

Later, when a male coworker tried to ask me out, I casually told him I was taken.

He gave me this wounded look and asked if I’d consider him if we ever broke up.

I scoffed.

“You can’t love me that much—otherwise you’d be volunteering to be my side piece.”

Because my self-worth was off the charts, they all talked trash behind my back, saying I had no idea how average I really was.

Until one day, my blind date caught wind of this “flaw” of mine and immediately wanted to take me home to meet his parents for the holidays.

“My mom’s a total martyr—always going on about how she doesn’t deserve anything nice. It’s driving me insane. If you could fix that mess for me, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

The request was a first for me, so I thumped my chest and said, “Don’t worry. Consider it handled.”

*****

At the café, Derek sat down across from me, looking a little stressed.

“Sorry, Miss Shaw, I know this place is pretty basic. Hope you don’t mind.”

I glanced around. “Yeah, it’s a bit underwhelming. Glad you noticed.”

Most of my previous blind dates would’ve scowled at that and demanded we split the bill. But Derek’s eyes lit up like he was genuinely pleased.

“Miss Shaw, I’ll cut to the chase. I’ve heard all about you from the matchmaker, and I think you’re exactly what I’m looking for. Would you be willing to come home with me for the holidays to meet my family?”

That seemed way too fast. I shot him down immediately.

His face fell for a second, then he let out a bitter laugh. “I’ll be straight with you. I run my own company now, pulling in seven figures a year, but my mom is slowly killing me. I need someone like you to straighten her out.”

Now I was curious. He launched into the whole story.

Turns out Derek lost his father young.

They lived in some rundown trailer park when he was a kid, and everyone pushed them around. That made his mother cling to penny-pinching like a life raft.

Back when they were broke, it made sense.

But then Derek clawed his way up—first into a top tech firm, then striking out on his own to build a thriving business.

Now he’s a big shot, and his mom still acts like they’re scraping by.

He took her on a luxury vacation abroad.

She packed two dozen bagels from home and ate nothing but those with hot water the whole trip.

He bought her premium supplements and rare truffle oils.

She let them all expire, then cooked them into his meals anyway, landing him in the hospital for two weeks with food poisoning.

When he asked her why she did this, she’d get all weepy and say, “These fancy things are for you. I’m just an old lady. I don’t deserve them.”

Here he was, a self-made millionaire, and his own mother couldn’t stop acting like they were destitute. Nobody believed it.

Every time he tried to correct her, the rest of the family called him ungrateful.

“So that’s why I need you to come with me. You’re my only hope, Miss Shaw. Please—help me break her of this habit, and I’ll pay you a million. No, five million.”

I wasn’t doing it for the money, obviously. It was the principle.

“Fine, I’ll help. But if I end up giving your mom a heart attack, don’t come after me.”

Derek nodded. “Better she goes that way than eating moldy apples and rotten potatoes.”