Chapter 3I Sued To Legally Disown My Perfect Daughter

Daisy’s lips pressed into a tight line. She shook her head back and forth like a frantic metronome. She stammered. "I… I…"

"Second question," I cut her off coldly.

"Why did I insist you attend a local university after high school?"

The question wasn't difficult. We lived in Boston. Most kids stayed local for the excellent colleges. The day she got her acceptance, the neighbors praised her for staying close to care for me.

But was that the truth?

With me and her teachers watching her, Daisy made it through high school. But in college, failing grades became the norm. She was facing expulsion.

I swallowed my pride and went to a college friend I hadn't spoken to in thirty years. I leveraged his connection to reach an obscure intermediary. That person led me to the Dean of Daisy’s department.

I had no money, no connections of value.

I just drove out to his home with baskets of fresh, small-farm produce and volunteered to clean his house, even helping to care for his bedridden mother.

I constantly mentioned Daisy to him, painting her as a devoted, hardworking student who was distracted by having to care for her ailing father—a man in a vegetative state—and manage the household, using this as an excuse for her grades.

Daisy's fabricated "devotion" made the Dean relent.

Afterward, I stayed on to care for his elderly mother, refusing payment. But the Dean was a good man; he started paying me a generous salary, enough to finally cover Rob's staggering monthly hospital bills. He even took an interest in Daisy, offering her an internship and a place at the City Research Institute after graduation.

I thought my years of sacrifice were finally paying off.

But Daisy refused every one of the Dean’s job offers.

The reason she gave? That my excessive control wouldn't allow her to leave.

She even managed to get me fired, losing my primary income, simply by casually mentioning in front of the Dean that I had scolded her for giving his mother too many potatoes, which she claimed I did out of spite.

I looked at Daisy's worried frown. I was genuinely curious how she would spin this.

"You made me stay local because of your control issues. You wanted to keep me close."

Her voice was thick with manufactured injury. Large, fat tears dropped onto the floor, splattering onto the Panel’s hearts.

"Mom, I’m an adult now. I have my own mind. I listened to you for twenty years, but I have my own family now, my own child. You can’t chain me up for the rest of my life…"

Her eyes were red and fixed on me. She spoke each syllable with deliberate clarity. "Mom, I am not your accessory. I am my own person."

"Well said!" someone whispered, triggering a wave of hushed agreement.

The looks directed at me twisted from suspicion and dissatisfaction to outright fury and disgust. The entire room supported her, and the weight of their judgment pressed down on me.

I quickly glanced at Daisy, not pausing for a second. "Yes. You’re right."

Before she could smile, I continued. "But you’re only half-right."

Everyone, including Daisy, was confused.

"I made you stay local, not to keep you close to me, but to keep you away from Mitch Sullivan."

I turned my gaze toward the corner of the room where he sat.

Following my eyes, everyone else stared, too. The noisy whispers died instantly, replaced by a thick silence.

Mitch Sullivan was no stranger. He was a local thug, known for dozens of petty crimes and violence. A born piece of trash.