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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…
“You or the family. That’s Patricia’s favorite weapon. She’s used it before.”
My stomach dropped. “What should I do?”
“Nothing yet. Let her show her cards. And don’t worry—I’ll be there recording everything.”
“Recording?”
“Dear, I’ve been documenting Patricia’s nonsense for years. I have an entire folder on my phone. I call it the Patricia files. Very thorough. Excellent audio quality.”
I laughed despite myself. “Nana June, you’re something else.”
“I’m a survivor. Now go take care of that baby and let me handle reconnaissance.”
The family meeting happened the next evening.
I sat in my apartment pretending to watch television, actually staring at my phone, waiting for updates.
At 9:47 p.m., Nana June sent me a video file. The message attached said simply: You need to see this.
I pressed play.
The video was shaky, but clear enough. Patricia was standing at the head of the dining table. Graham and Sloan seated, Randall in his usual silent position. Nana June must have propped her phone against something because the angle was steady.
Patricia’s voice filled my tiny apartment.
“This has gone far enough, Graham. I’ve held my tongue because I wanted to give you space to make your own decisions. But this woman is dragging you down.”
Graham’s voice was tense. “Her name is Bethany.”
“Fine. Bethany. She’s a nobody, Graham. A part-time paper pusher with a baby that isn’t even yours. Do you understand what people are saying? Do you understand how this looks?”
“I don’t care how it looks.”
“Well, you should.” Patricia’s voice rose. “You’re a Whitmore. That name means something in this community, and you’re throwing it away on a woman who can’t even afford to dress properly.”
Sloan chimed in. “Honestly, Graham, she’s embarrassing. Did you see her at the dinner? She looked like she got her outfit from a donation bin, and the baby spit up on the Trezé rug. Do you know how much that rug cost?”
“More than your contribution to this family in the last five years, I’m guessing,” Graham shot back.
“Don’t be cruel,” Patricia snapped. “We’re trying to help you see clearly.”
“No, you’re trying to control me like you always do—like you did with Sarah and Michelle and Rebecca.”
My ears perked up. The three women Nana June had mentioned—the ones Patricia had destroyed.
“Those women weren’t right for you,” Patricia said smoothly. “And neither is this one. But I’m willing to make you a deal.”
“I don’t want your deals.”
Continued on the next page
