From Unwanted To Dominator: Her Comeback! Chapter 03

From Unwanted To Dominator: Her Comeback! Chapter 03

Chapter 3 I Want Her Love
Even though I knew Mom didn’t love me, wanting her love was just… part of being a kid.
So from as early as I could remember, I learned to be quiet, obedient—good.
Because only then would she sometimes give me the tiniest flicker of a smile.
But even being good could turn into a reason for her to hate me.
Like that time at a dinner with my dad’s friend, Owen Smith.
Jasmine sat beside Mom, rattling off a long list of dishes without hesitation.
She chatted with the adults like she owned the table, all bright eyes and confident giggles.
Everyone cooed over how “poised” and “charming” she was.
When the menu finally reached me, I didn’t reach for it. I just shook my head softly. “I’m okay. I don’t need anything.”
Because I knew—I didn’t have the right to order.
Order too much? I’d be “wasteful.”
Pick something expensive? I’d be “greedy.”
Choose wrong? I’d “upset Mom.”
Owen leaned over kindly. “Come on, Annie! Pick something you like. Don’t be shy.”
Mom glanced at me—just once—then said flatly, voice dripping with disdain.
“Don’t bother. She spends all day with her head down, barely speaks a word. Honestly, just looking at her gives me a headache.”
Her words didn’t just sting—they pierced. Like a needle driven straight into my chest.
Owen flushed, trying to smooth things over. “Ah, Annie’s just shy! She’s not ordering because she doesn’t want to waste food—see how thoughtful she is?”
That did it.
Mom’s face twisted.
“Thoughtful?” she snapped, eyes blazing. “So you’re saying Jasmine’s not thoughtful? That she’s wasteful? Is that what you mean?”
Owen froze, mouth opening and closing like a fish. He stammered something unintelligible, hands raised in surrender.
Then Mom whirled on me.
“And you—what are you playing at? Huh? Acting all sweet and quiet in front of Owen? Trying to make yourself look like the ‘good’ kid so everyone thinks Jasmine’s spoiled? Trying to make us look like bad parents?”
Every single word hit like a frozen whip—right where I wasn’t ready to be hurt.
And just like that, I was drowning in this huge, stupid wave of hurt and how wrong it all was.
I hadn’t done anything. I just… didn’t want to cause trouble!
“You’re six years old,” Mom hissed, voice shrill now, finger jabbing toward my face, “and already so calculating? So full of tricks?”
My cheeks burned. My ears roared like ocean waves.
Everything after that blurred—the rest of her yelling, the clinking glasses, the hushed whispers.
All I felt were the stares: shocked, pitying, amused, indifferent… each one a thorn digging into my skin until I couldn’t breathe.
And in that moment, a single, broken question echoed in my mind—
Why was being good… still wrong?