The Champion I Raised For Revenge - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
You are reading The Champion I Raised For Revenge, Chapter 4: Chapter 4. Read more chapters of The Champion I Raised For Revenge.
"You don't have to worry, Mother," I said, holding her gaze with steady determination. "I'll raise Natalie as if she were my own."
"You've seen how I've cared for her all these years," I added, my voice firm.
Relief flooded her face as she nodded eagerly, murmuring her thanks. "Good, good! If you're willing to do this, Jacob can finally rest easy. On behalf of him and his wife—thank you."
I offered a faint smile. "We're family. No thanks needed. It was my promise to Talie back then."
The second the name left my lips, I clenched my teeth.
Her sharp ears caught it instantly. "What did you just say? Who's Talie?" Suspicion flickered in her eyes.
I kept my expression neutral, shaking my head. "You must've misheard, Mother."
Years flew by in a heartbeat, and now eighteen-year-old Natalie stood poised at the edge of the Olympic pool.
The starting gun fired.
She cut through the water like a blade, every stroke effortless, every turn flawless. By the time she touched the wall, she'd not only won—she'd shattered the world record, claiming the freestyle championship title.
The internet went wild.
[I can't believe it! Wanda actually raised her late husband's love child and turned her into a world champion!]
[Wanda's a saint! Natalie would've never broken that record at eighteen without her!]
The same people who'd once dragged me through the mud were now singing my praises.
Then my mother-in-law decided to open her mouth in an interview.
Chin lifted with pride, she announced, "Natalie's talent comes from her biological parents' genes. Wanda had nothing to do with it."
I nearly laughed at the audacity. Me? Nothing to do with it? I'd spent years drilling every technique into Natalie, sacrificing sleep, time, everything. Without me, she'd have never stood on that podium.
And then the old woman dropped the bomb: "Just wait. In a few days, I'll explain everything."
A cold knot twisted in my stomach. What game is she playing now?
That night, she announced she was going out. I smiled, waved her off—and slipped a tiny listening device into her handbag.
She'd been sneaking out lately, and my gut screamed something was coming. The house was silent, the night thick with tension. I sat by the receiver, my pulse hammering.
Then—a voice crackled through the speaker.
A voice I hadn't heard in eighteen years.
Jacob.
"You've seen how I've cared for her all these years," I added, my voice firm.
Relief flooded her face as she nodded eagerly, murmuring her thanks. "Good, good! If you're willing to do this, Jacob can finally rest easy. On behalf of him and his wife—thank you."
I offered a faint smile. "We're family. No thanks needed. It was my promise to Talie back then."
The second the name left my lips, I clenched my teeth.
Her sharp ears caught it instantly. "What did you just say? Who's Talie?" Suspicion flickered in her eyes.
I kept my expression neutral, shaking my head. "You must've misheard, Mother."
Years flew by in a heartbeat, and now eighteen-year-old Natalie stood poised at the edge of the Olympic pool.
The starting gun fired.
She cut through the water like a blade, every stroke effortless, every turn flawless. By the time she touched the wall, she'd not only won—she'd shattered the world record, claiming the freestyle championship title.
The internet went wild.
[I can't believe it! Wanda actually raised her late husband's love child and turned her into a world champion!]
[Wanda's a saint! Natalie would've never broken that record at eighteen without her!]
The same people who'd once dragged me through the mud were now singing my praises.
Then my mother-in-law decided to open her mouth in an interview.
Chin lifted with pride, she announced, "Natalie's talent comes from her biological parents' genes. Wanda had nothing to do with it."
I nearly laughed at the audacity. Me? Nothing to do with it? I'd spent years drilling every technique into Natalie, sacrificing sleep, time, everything. Without me, she'd have never stood on that podium.
And then the old woman dropped the bomb: "Just wait. In a few days, I'll explain everything."
A cold knot twisted in my stomach. What game is she playing now?
That night, she announced she was going out. I smiled, waved her off—and slipped a tiny listening device into her handbag.
She'd been sneaking out lately, and my gut screamed something was coming. The house was silent, the night thick with tension. I sat by the receiver, my pulse hammering.
Then—a voice crackled through the speaker.
A voice I hadn't heard in eighteen years.
Jacob.
End of The Champion I Raised For Revenge Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to The Champion I Raised For Revenge book page.