What Happens At The End Of Families: A Memoir And A Celebration?

On our wedding day, my bride-to-be, Jody Simmons, disappears without a trace. All she leaves behind is a baby with a heart condition and a letter. She writes, "Dami, I love you, but I've also fallen in love with Henry Ziegler. I can't officially make him mine. So, I've decided to travel around the world with him to make it up to him. I'll give you a chance to raise the child Henry and I have together. While we're away, let our child keep you company." But why should I raise another man's child? Six years later, I take my daughter to the airport to see my wife, Ivy Simmons, off on a business trip. When I turn around, I spot Jody pulling a suitcase behind her. The moment she sees the little girl in my arms, her face lights up with delight. She gushes, "Dami, is this Henry and my child? You've raised her so well! But Henry and I are already married overseas, so I can't marry you anymore. Don't worry, though. In my heart, you've always been my husband." Looking at the striking resemblance between her features and my daughter's, I chuckle softly. I say meaningfully, "Careful. Don't go around claiming someone else's daughter as yours. This is your cousin."

After finishing work for the day, I checked my phone and realized I had been added to a group chat called "Catch the Thief." The members were my parents, my brother, Brian Wise, and my sister-in-law, Paulene Wise. I typed a question mark. Paulene replied instantly. [My jewelry is missing. I didn't add you here to accuse you or anything. I just wanted to ask what you think. Honestly, there's no use for other people in our family to take my jewelry, so I've been wondering... I'm not saying you definitely stole it. But if you did, you don't have to deny it. I'm willing to give you a chance to make things right.] My mother said nothing. She just kept tagging me over and over. I let out a small laugh and typed back. [Maybe Brian took it and gave it to his side piece. I'm not saying he definitely has someone else. Just that men his age sometimes start looking around. I'm only guessing here. And if he really did mess up, you could give him a chance to make things right, too.]

I loved Dante Moretti for seven years. At eighteen, one night at a family gala changed everything. Soon after, I became his fiancee, and not long after that, he was sent to run the Chicago branch for four years. I gave birth alone, raised our son alone, and waited for him in the house that was supposed to be ours. What came back to New York was not a family. He brought Claire and her son with him, and before long, that boy was sitting in Dante's car, taking my son's place in the training program, and showing up in every space that should have belonged to family. Then, on my son's birthday, I saw a video from Chicago. Someone asked, "Dante, when did you feel most at home?" He lifted his glass and said, "One winter night during a blackout. Claire was in the kitchen by candlelight, and Leo grabbed my sleeve and asked me not to leave." I didn't cry. I ended the engagement, erased my son and myself from every Moretti family record, and left New York without looking back.

I've been in a secret relationship with Declan Gibson for five years, and I've tried to seduce him more times than I can count. Yet, when I stand in front of him in my birthday suit and a pair of bunny ears, all he does is worry that I'll catch a cold and wrap me in a blanket. I used to think his restraint came from being the mafia don, that he was saving our first time for our wedding night. However, one month before the ceremony, he secretly plans the city's grandest fireworks show to celebrate his childhood sweetheart's birthday. They hug and share a slice of cake in public. That night, they check into a hotel. … The next morning, I watch them leave together. That's when I realize Declan is not restrained. He just doesn't love me, so I walk out of the hotel. I call my parents. "Dad, I've broken up with Declan. I'll marry into the Sullivan family as planned." My father is stunned. "I thought you were madly in love with Declan. Why did you break up? I heard Bryson can't have children. You've always loved kids. What will you do once you marry him?" "It's fine," I reply, disheartened. "We can always adopt."

On our seventh anniversary, an event planner called, already hyping up my wife, Talia. "Ms. Sweeney, we're putting a family photo of you four in the main hall. And some shots of your little princess. That okay? Also, can you confirm your son carrying his sister onstage?" I froze. There were only two people in our house—Talia and me. A family of four? Two kids? I called Talia, the hotel's general manager. She brushed it off. "Probably a client. Wrong number on a contract. I hand out cards all day." I stared at the balloons and flowers I'd set up in the private room—then swiped them all to the floor. Gone. I turned and called my sister, the Director of the Business Compliance Bureau. "Naomi, Talia's cheating. She's got two kids. Get me the best divorce lawyer. I want her out—and out of my hotel."

One night, my family sat together watching the New Year’s Eve Live on television. My little sister, Stella Larson, said she had to pee and hurried to the washroom. Half an hour later, she still had not returned. When I went to check on her, the washroom was empty. “When did Stella leave the washroom?” I asked my parents. Both of them were stunned for a moment before feeling my forehead and saying, “What are you talking about? You’re an only child. Who is Stella?” They forcibly pulled me back to my seat. My mind went blank. Did the three of them just pull a prank on me? After finishing his drink, my father clutched his stomach and rushed into the washroom. I stared fixedly at the washroom door. A long time passed, but no one came out. My father had vanished, too. My hand trembled as I pointed at the bathroom. My mother stepped forward to go in. “Don’t go in! Dad and Luna disappeared in there!” My mother looked grief-stricken as she said, “Sweetie, it’s been just the two of us for the past twenty-plus years, remember?” Her words hit me hard. I was in total disbelief. I explained myself frantically, but the more I spoke, the more confused my mother became. She finally shook me off and said, “Why are you doing this to me? I’ve raised you your whole life! Why do you have to ruin New Year’s Eve?” She walked straight into the washroom, and the house soon fell into a dead silence. Terrified, I called my best friend, Kathy Scott, who lived nearby. I rambled incoherently as I begged her for help. But her words utterly crushed me. “What family members? You’re an orphan.” I hung up the phone, rushed out, and pounded frantically on the neighbors’ door.