Chapter 1The Dumpster Baby Heiress

At thirty-three, single, and child-free, I was happily rotting on my couch, cuddling my cats, when my phone rang.

"Hey! Someone dumped a baby in the complex next door. You want it?"

Hearing the word "dumped," my reflex kicked in. "Yes!"

I cursed all the way out the door.

When I got to the next complex, I froze.

I must have inhaled too much cat hair. It wasn't a dumped kitten. It was a dumped human baby.

My mom shoved the bundle into my arms and bolted.

Running away, she shouted over her shoulder:

"That's my granddaughter now! Your biological daughter!"

"I already filed the paperwork! You're raising her whether you like it or not!"

Resigned, I carried this two-legged money pit home.

I raised her with blood, sweat, and tears.

Who knew she was actually a billionaire heiress?

* * *

At thirty-three, I was a professional couch potato.

Aside from my six fur babies, I was the only living, breathing thing in the house.

"Look at you. Thirty-three. No husband, no kids. You think these cats are going to take care of you when you're old?"

My mom was scooping the litter box on the balcony, nagging as usual.

I bobbed my head, in one ear and out the other.

She finished scooping and suddenly materialized by my bed.

"When you die, no one's even going to visit your grave."

She was worried sick!

I rolled over, turning my back to her. "It's fine. Someone will visit the wrong grave eventually."

"Besides, I still have you and Dad! I'll just haunt you guys."

"Worst case, I'll prepay for my own funeral services."

My mom punched my duvet twice in frustration, stomped her foot, and went to the kitchen to cook.

"Honey, if you really don't want to get married or have kids, that's fine. But can't you at least adopt one?"

"Your dad and I won't be around forever. Think about how lonely you'll be all by yourself... sob..."

At the dinner table, she started crying crocodile tears again.

"Okay, okay. If I find a suitable one, I'll adopt."

I brushed her off.

My mom stopped crying instantly, eyes gleaming.

"Deal!"

The next day, I was at home huffing my cat when my mom called.

"Hey! There's a dumped baby in the complex next door. You want it?"

Hearing the word "dumped," I immediately shouted, "Yes!"

I stormed out of the house, cursing.

On the way, I cursed the person who abandoned it eight hundred times. If you're going to raise something, raise it to the end!

If you really can't, find it a new home. Abandonment is trash behavior.

As a long-time cat owner, I can't stand words like "abuse" or "abandon."

When I got to the next complex, I was stunned.

I must have been high on cat fumes. I didn't hear her clearly.

It wasn't a dumped kitten. It was a dumped infant.

I've heard kids are money shredders. Formula alone costs hundreds a month.

My wallet couldn't handle that!

Looking at the baby in my mom's arms, I turned to run.

My mom saw me, shoved the baby into my arms, and took off.

Running away, she yelled back:

"That's my granddaughter now! Your biological daughter!"

"I already filed the paperwork! You're raising her whether you like it or not!"

Helpless, I had to carry this two-legged money shredder home.