From Unwanted To Dominator: Her Comeback! Novel by Page West _ Novel





From Unwanted To Dominator: Her Comeback! Chapter 01

Chapter 1 Your Birth Was a Mistake

My childhood had "three rules."
No dresses.
No long hair.
And never—ever—take anything that belonged to Jasmine Hayes.
Mom made those rules herself.
She needed to protect Jasmine's place as the family's one and only princess.
From the moment I could understand words, I was treated like Jasmine's servant.
If she liked pink, I couldn't like pink.
If she wanted to bring her stuffed animals on vacation, there was no seat left for me in the car.
If her grades were bad, I wasn't allowed to be first in class.
And still—even after all that—I was thrown away.
Because Mom said, "Your birth was a mistake."
…
Mom hadn't had an easy childhood.
As the oldest, she'd been forced to care for her younger siblings while growing up, and she carried deep wounds from her own mother's house.
After marrying Dad, she swore they'd only ever have one child.
But after Jasmine was born, they got pregnant again—by accident. With me.
So I wasn't born into love.
The day I came into the world, Mom didn't hold me. She wouldn't even look at me properly.
I cried a lot as a baby. And she'd glare at me and say, "She's already learned to cry on purpose—to steal attention. What kind of person will she grow up to be?"
The nanny who looked after me thought it was ridiculous and blurted out, "Kids cry—that's just what they do. How's that 'on purpose'?"
Already in a fragile state, Mom completely unraveled at the nanny's comment.
She grabbed fistfuls of her hair, shrieking hysterically—sending both the nanny and Dad stumbling back in shock.
"What am I supposed to do?!" she shrieked, tears streaming down her face. "People already like her more! What about my Jasmine? My Jasmine is the only princess in this house! You little bitch—why are you trying to steal her love?!"
Dad wrapped his arms around her, murmuring soft words until she collapsed against his chest, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.
Through gasps and tears, she clutched his shirt and begged, "Harrison Hayes… please. Send her away. Just… send her away."
He didn't have a choice. He rented a tiny apartment across town and moved me out with my nanny, Doris Foster.
I never tasted Mom's milk—not once. That was saved for Jasmine.
Even though Jasmine was already two—old enough to wean—Mom kept nursing her, saying she "just couldn't bear to take it away."
So Doris fed me formula.
I couldn't stand the taste of formula—every feeding ended in violent vomiting.
Doris panicked and dialed Mom, pleading with her to come check on me.
Mom's reply was cold. "I'm not a doctor. What good would me looking at her do? Just take her to the hospital." A pause. Then, softer—but crueler. "I've got plans this afternoon. Jasmine and I are going to the amusement park. Don't bother me."
Mom ended the call without a word.
Doris pulled me into her arms and wept—great, shaking sobs that soaked my tiny shoulder.
Until I turned six, I lived with Doris.
Dad visited sometimes. But Mom? Never once.
I was just a kid, full of questions.
Again and again, I asked Doris, "Why don't I ever see Mom?"
Whenever I brought it up, Doris would steer the conversation elsewhere—never giving me a real answer.
Eventually, I just stopped asking.
I didn't mind most days—but sometimes, watching other children walk hand in hand with their mom and dad, I'd feel that quiet ache of loss. 

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