Last Life She Killed Me for My Rich Husband, This Life I Let Her Have Him Chapter 09

Last Life She Killed Me for My Rich Husband, This Life I Let Her Have Him Chapter 09

Before I knew it, my daughter was crawling. 

She’d wiggle over on her chubby little body, stick her little butt in the air, push up on her hands, and sit there like a little cherub straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. 

The nanny would shake a small rattle, trying to get her to 

reach for it. 

Time flew. Kids seemed to grow up overnight. But I could never forget the hard days of my last life, when there was no one to help. 

I hadn’t wanted that first pregnancy, but Benjamin’s mother insisted. “Just have the baby. You don’t have to do anything else. I’ll take the baby back home with me.” 

Benjamin begged me every single day. Finally, I found him crying in the bathroom and caved. That was how I had my first daughter. 

When the nurse said it was a girl, his mother didn’t even look at the baby. She went straight back to her hometown and never helped us again. 

I thought about asking my mom for help, but our tiny one–bedroom rental couldn’t fit another person. And Benjamin kept promising he’d handle everything at home. Nothing ever came of it. 

I handled recovery on my own. I raised the baby myself. Benjamin helped when he was home, but it was never enough. 

Most of the time, he had to work. If he didn’t work, we didn’t 

eat. 

The pain of breastfeeding, the exhaustion of sleepless nights, the desperation of a baby who wouldn’t settle, I carried it all 

alone. 

I endured until she could sit up on her own, until I could strap her to my back and go back to hauling scrap. Those six months crawled by. I counted every single second. 

Looking at how peaceful and relaxed I was now, it made me realize motherhood didn’t have to be like that. 

“Mrs. Montgomery?” Mrs. Clark was holding my phone. “It’s 

for you.” 

“Oh.” I took it and answered. 

“Emma, hurry! Your sister’s in labor.”