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I kept my $17,500 monthly salary a secret from my fiancé. To him, I was just a girl living simply with a baby. I wanted to see how he treats a poor single mom, so I pretended to be broke and naive. He invited me to the family dinner, but as soon as I walked through the door…
“It is.”
“You’re stronger than you look, you know.” She sipped her whiskey. “I’ve been watching you—the way you handle Patricia’s nonsense, the way you keep your composure when most women would have crumbled. It’s impressive.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.
“You’re not what they think you are, dear.” Her eyes met mine, sharp and knowing. “I’m not sure what you are exactly, but it’s not what they see.”
My heart hammered. Had she figured it out?
“I’m exactly what I appear to be,” I said carefully. “A single mom trying to do her best.”
She didn’t sound convinced. “You know, 55 years ago, I was you.”
“Excuse me?”
“The poor girl who dared to love a Whitmore.” She smiled, but there was old pain in it. “Randall’s mother hated me with a passion that could power a small city. I wasn’t good enough for her son. I was beneath their family. Sound familiar?”
I nodded slowly.
“Patricia learned from her mother-in-law. Unfortunately, she’s been trying to destroy every woman Graham brings home for the past decade.”
“Three relationships,” she said, holding up three fingers. “Three good women, systematically dismantled by Patricia’s campaigns. One was a nurse, one was a teacher, one was a lovely girl who worked for a nonprofit. All of them not good enough.”
“What happened to them?”
“They ran. They couldn’t handle the pressure, the constant judgment, the feeling of never being welcome. Patricia wore them down until they broke.”
Nana June finished her whiskey. “Don’t let her win unless you don’t have the fight in you.”
“I have fight,” I said quietly.
“Good.” She patted my arm. “The real ones don’t run, dear. They dig in.”
She walked away, leaving me with more questions than answers. Did she know my secret? Did she just suspect something? Or was she simply recognizing a strength she’d once possessed herself?
I didn’t have time to figure it out, because raised voices from inside the house caught my attention.
I crept closer to an open window and heard Graham arguing with Sloan. They didn’t know I was listening.
“You need to open your eyes,” Sloan was saying. “She’s using you. It’s so obvious. She has nothing, Graham. Nothing. And you’re just going to hand her your whole life?”
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