My Mother's Son is a Debt Collector Chapter 2

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my mother took me to pick up my brother.

The widowed relative, Fiona, was pushing a dirty little boy towards us.

"Child, this is your mom and sister. You'll have everything you want at their house. It's much better than staying with me."

The little boy immediately started crying and rolling on the ground. "I don't want to go! You're all lying to me! I want to be an only child. I don't want a sister!"

My mother laughed, bending over with amusement. "This little guy is so smart. He's already fighting for attention before even coming home. But you have to come home with me first."

The boy suddenly stopped crying and pointed at me, asking my mother, "Choose her or me? You can only pick one!"

Without hesitation, my mother coaxed him, "I choose you! We don't need a sister."

The boy quickly pushed away from his mother and obediently took my mother's hand.

My mother excitedly asked me, "What do you think? Isn't he adorable?"

Suppressing my intense hatred, I replied understandingly, "Mom, if you like him, go ahead and raise him."

In my previous life, after giving birth to me, my mother couldn't conceive again.

She was obsessed with having a son, believing that only a son could provide security in her old age, no matter how much I tried to reassure her.

She wanted to adopt this child from our relative.

I advised my mother that if she wanted a son, she should adopt from an orphanage.

This relative's family was known for causing trouble and fighting. Bringing home an eight or nine-year-old boy would surely lead to problems.

My mother wouldn't listen. She firmly believed that a child with some blood relation would be better.

But it was this child, whom my mother thought was perfectly suitable, who always caused trouble and turned our home into chaos.

Back then, my mother would beat and scold my brother, saying, "Your sister was right. Bad seeds produce bad fruit. You're nothing but a curse. I was blind to choose you over my own daughter."

He would glare at me viciously each time, his eyes like those of a wolf ready to tear me apart.

Until I discovered he had stolen our house deed, and after an argument with him, on New Year's Eve, he set fire to my rented apartment, burning me alive.

No matter how much I begged and struggled, no one came to save me.

In this life, I will make sure everyone pays the price.