After giving birth to my twin daughters, I thought my husband, Derek, would finally choose us over his controlling mother, Lorraine. But once again, I was proven wrong, and this time, I knew it was the last straw.

Bringing home my babies after a difficult delivery should have been a moment of joy, with Derek picking us up at the hospital and welcoming us home as a family. Instead, I got a last-minute phone call from him saying he couldn’t come. His excuse? Lorraine had chest pains, and he needed to rush her to the hospital.

I was disappointed but tried to focus on my daughters, Ella and Sophie. I called a taxi, bundled the girls into their car seats, and prepared for our homecoming without him.

When the cab pulled up to our house, I was shocked. My belongings were scattered across the front yard—suitcases, baby items, even the crib mattress. A note taped to one of the suitcases made my stomach drop:

“Get out of here with your little moochers! I know everything.” It was signed, Derek.

I tried calling him repeatedly, but his phone went straight to voicemail. My heart broke as I stood there, clutching my newborns, wondering how the man I loved could do this.

With no other option, I called my mom. She arrived quickly, furious and confused, and took us to her house. That night, I barely slept, consumed by anger, hurt, and questions.

The next day, I returned to the house. My belongings were gone, but what shocked me more was seeing Lorraine sitting at my dining table, sipping tea as though nothing had happened. I banged on the door, demanding answers.

Smiling smugly, she opened the door just enough to gloat. She admitted to orchestrating everything—faking her illness to get Derek away, locking me out, and writing the cruel note.

When I asked why, her answer left me speechless. “Because you gave him two useless girls. This family needs boys.”

Her callousness was unbearable. She reveled in her actions, confident Derek would take her side, as he always had. I drove straight to the hospital to confront him.

When I found Derek, he looked exhausted and confused. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call, but I lost my phone,” he said.

“Your mother took your phone,” I said sharply. “She faked her illness and locked me out of the house.”

The shock on his face quickly turned to fury. We drove home together, and when we arrived, Lorraine’s smug attitude disappeared the moment Derek demanded answers.

“You lied to me, threw my wife and children out, and locked them out of their own home?” he yelled. Lorraine tried to defend herself, but Derek wasn’t having it. “What kind of mother does that? I don’t care what gender my children are. They’re my daughters, and I love them. If you can’t accept them, you have no place in our lives.”

For the first time, Lorraine was speechless. She packed her things and left that night. Derek apologized over and over, vowing to make it up to me. He changed the locks, cut contact with his mother, and even reported the nurse she had bribed.

It wasn’t easy, but we rebuilt our life. One evening, as I rocked Ella and Sophie to sleep, I realized that Lorraine’s cruelty had only made our family stronger. Derek had finally chosen us, and we were moving forward together, leaving her toxic influence behind.