When I got home with my twin babies, the locks had been changed, my stuff had been thrown away, and there was a note waiting for me
After giving birth to my twin daughters, I expected love and peace. Instead, I came home to find my things dumped on the lawn and a note on my suitcase:
“Get out with your little moochers. I know everything. —Derek.”
My husband had claimed he couldn’t pick us up because his mom had chest pains. But it was all a lie. Locked out and heartbroken, I called my mom for help.
The next day, I returned—and found Derek’s mother, Lorraine, sipping tea inside like nothing happened. Smirking, she admitted she faked the emergency, stole Derek’s phone, and kicked me out… because I had girls, not boys.
“You failed,” she said. “I fixed it.”
I rushed to the hospital. Derek was panicked—he had no idea. When I told him the truth, we went home together and confronted her.
“You did this?” he asked.
“For you,” she claimed.
“No,” he said. “You’re done.”
He kicked her out that night.
Months later, we’re stronger than ever. Derek changed the locks, cut ties, and never looked back.
She tried to break us—but love, and our daughters, proved stronger than hate.
