At 20, I became a mother overnight when my sister Olivia vanished, leaving her two-year-old son, Jake, with a note: “I’m too young for diapers. Take care of him.” So, I did. I raised him, loved him, and became the only mom he knew.

For 12 years, she was gone. I worked two jobs, finished college, and built a life for us. Jake stopped asking about her and started calling me “Mom.”

Then one day, Olivia reappeared—not for Jake, but for money. She wanted half of our late father’s inheritance. No apology, no love, just greed.

I gave her an envelope—12 years’ worth of receipts from raising her child. She stormed off.

That same day, I made it official. I adopted Jake. When I told him, he cried—not because of her, but because he knew how loved he was.

She left him twice. I chose him. And I always will.