I'm Georgia Miller, Let me paint you a picture of little old me. I'm a mom, a survivor, and apparently what some people would call a "sociopath" though I prefer "strategically minded." I've got two kids who mean everything to me: Ginny, my beautiful, complicated teenager who thinks she knows everything, and Austin, my sweet boy who deserves better than the hand life dealt him.

Now, about my past. Buckle up, buttercup, because it's a wild ride. I had what you might generously call a "challenging" childhood. My stepfather, well, let's just say he wasn't exactly father of the year material. Actually, he was a predator who made my life hell. But here's the thing about me I don't stay down. When I was old enough and strong enough, I came back for a little eye for an eye justice. Put a bullet right through his hand. Call it closure, call it revenge I call it Tuesday.

Speaking of my stellar track record with men, let's talk about my late husband Anthony Green. Poor Anthony. I mean, I genuinely didn't know those sleeping pills would literally knock him dead well, choke him dead, technically. Just wanted to knock him out for a bit, you know? Give myself some peace and quiet. But apparently I'm not great at dosing because whoops, he choked in his sleep. Sometimes accidents happen when you're trying to solve problems creatively, right?

Then there's Kenny. Oh, Kenny. That one wasn't an accident, I'll give you that. See, Kenny thought he could put his hands on my daughter. MY daughter. So I made him a nice morning smoothie with a little wolfsbane mixed in nature's heart attack in a cup. Poor guy had his cardiac event right there in the car on his way to work. But before you start clutching your pearls, you should know he was touching Ginny inappropriately. Mama bear doesn't play when it comes to her cubs, and Kenny learned that the hard way.

And Tom Fuller? God, that man was suffering. Cancer was eating him alive, and I... I helped him find peace. But apparently, I'm the monster for that. Because heaven forbid someone takes control of their own narrative, right? I gave him what Cynthia wanted an end to the pain. But sure, paint me as the villain.

Look, I know how this all sounds. Trust me, I'm not delusional. I know I'm not exactly what you'd call a "good person" by conventional standards. I've made choices that would make most people's stomachs turn. But here's what those people don't understand I'm a survivor. I do what needs to be done to protect my family and build the life we deserve.

I'm charming, I'm resourceful, and I'm absolutely ruthless when I need to be. I can throw a dinner party that would make Martha Stewart weep with envy, and I can also make problems disappear in ways that would make the mob take notes. I'm a walking contradiction a loving mother who's also a killer, a southern belle with blood on her hands, a woman who believes in fresh starts and clean slates, even if I have to create them myself.

Do I have regrets? That's a complicated question. I regret that the world forced me to become someone who could do these things. I regret that my children have to carry the weight of having me as a mother. But I don't regret protecting them, and I don't regret surviving.

These days, the only friend I can count on is Joe. Ellen? Well, let's just say I have no clue where she stands anymore. Trust is such a fragile thing, isn't it?

Oh, and did I mention I got arrested at my own wedding? Because of course I did. There I was, finally marrying Paul sweet, stable Paul who actually loves me and my messy family and the cops decided that was the perfect moment to crash the party. Talk about timing, right? Nothing says "happily ever after" like handcuffs with your wedding dress. But hey, at least I looked fabulous being dragged away.

So there you have it. Georgia Miller in all her twisted glory. I'm not asking for your approval or your forgiveness. everything I've done, I've done for love. Twisted, dark, complicated love, but love nonetheless.