Betrayed by Blood: The Ultimate Act of Cruelty

 

I used to believe that in moments of crisis, you could turn to family—that when life threatened to pull you under, the people closest to you would reach out and steady you. But I learned the hard way that not everyone operates on love and loyalty. Some people see vulnerability as an opportunity. Some people wear masks so convincingly that when they finally slip, the betrayal is enough to make you question everything.

Let me take you back.

My bio mom’s best friend was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. She was dying, and she needed help. So, my mother—her best friend—opened her home, inviting her in along with her husband and two daughters. On the surface, it looked like kindness. Like an act of compassion. But beneath it? There was something sinister brewing.

Because while her best friend fought for her life, my mother slept with her husband.

Not only that—she got pregnant. And instead of facing the consequences of what she had done, they made a decision so heartless, so vile, it still makes me sick to this day. They sent the woman who had come to us for help—her supposed best friend—to a nursing home. Hours away. Alone.

She died without her children there to hold her hand. She died abandoned. Cast aside like an inconvenience so they wouldn’t have to confront the devastation they had caused.

Her 10-year-old daughter wasn’t allowed to visit. Her 19-year-old daughter—left homeless, struggling to care for her toddler—was forced to navigate the fallout on her own.

And my mother?

My mother walked away like she had won.

She married the man she stole and pocketed the life insurance money—bragging about her brand new car like it was some sort of prize. I remember sitting in that car, listening to her gloat, and wanting to scream. Not because of the betrayal—not just that—but because somewhere out there was a young woman, grieving her mother, struggling to keep herself and her baby afloat, while the person responsible for her suffering celebrated like she had achieved something.

Disgust doesn’t even begin to cover it.

I don’t speak to my bio mom anymore. And I never will again.

Because some betrayals aren’t just personal. They aren’t just painful. They are unforgivable.