My Daughter Called Her Mommy… Not Me — Novel

About

In a world where love is supposed to conquer all, Miya's reality crumbles before her eyes. With stage-four brain cancer stealing her memories and strength, she clings to her daughter, Nana, determined to celebrate her birthday amidst the chaos of a gala. But when her husband, Gusion, takes the stage to propose to another woman—their adopted daughter, Hanabi—Miya’s carefully constructed world shatters, exposing the lies that have woven through their lives.

As the applause echoes around her, Miya grapples with betrayal, her family’s silence, and the haunting question: how could love turn so cruel? In a moment that should have been filled with joy, she finds herself alone, drowning in a sea of harsh truths and shattered dreams. With whispers swirling and eyes turning, she realizes that the people she trusted most have betrayed her in the most unforgiving way.

What happens when the one person meant to stand by you chooses someone else? As Miya fights to reclaim her identity and protect her daughter, will she find the strength to confront the truth? Or will she be lost in the shadows of a life she no longer recognizes? In a tale of love, loss, and resilience, the stakes are higher than ever, and every choice could change everything.

My Daughter Called Her Mommy… Not MeChapter 1

I was dying of brain cancer.

Before it takes me completely, I brought my daughter out to celebrate her seventh birthday.

I planned everything myself. No assistants. No secretaries. Just me.

In the morning, Nana and I brought wrapped toys to the children’s wing. Plush dolphins. Coloring sets. Mermaid dolls with glittery tails. She handed each one over like it mattered. I watched her kneel beside hospital beds. Seven years old and already kinder than the world deserved.

At night, I told her we had one more stop. A charity gala. A place where people with too much money pretended they had hearts.

As the wife of Gusion Colombo, one of the richest men in the country, doors opened easily. Valets bowed. Cameras flashed. Volunteers thanked me like I was still someone of value.

No one knew I was dying.

Stage four brain cancer does not announce itself. It steals quietly. My balance. My words. My memories. Some mornings, I forgot Nana’s birthmark behind her ear and cried in the bathroom until it came back to me.

I never told Gusion.

He hated weakness.