Chapter 2

Her voice was sharp and urgent.

As I listened, old memories came rushing back.

Back in high school, money was so tight we lived off discount food.

To help out, I ate a peanut butter sandwich for lunch every single day.

Then Mom went and signed Zoey up for a three-thousand-dollar dance program. Said Zoey was talented and couldn't be held back.

When I got into a top university, Mom barely looked at my acceptance letter.

"What a lucky break. But with your personality, you still won't go far."

But when Zoey got into community college, Mom acted like she'd won the lottery.

She spent all day bragging about how smart Zoey was. Said she was destined for big things. Said the family would depend on her someday.

Later, when Zoey demanded to study abroad, Mom told me to pay for it.

I couldn't say no after that pleading look. I gave in.

Then she threw Zoey this huge party.

Relatives kept praising her for raising a daughter who studied overseas.

Nobody mentioned I was the one paying for it.

When I was three months pregnant, Mom stayed at the Brighton estate for a week.

Those seven days were a nightmare.

One time, Bruce poured me a glass of water, and Mom immediately sneered.

"Look at you. You're pregnant, not disabled. Acting like a princess already? You can't even pour your own water?"

After meals, I cleaned the dishes while she sat nearby eating snacks.

"Wow. Now you know how to work hard? Where was this before?"

Then she'd turn to Bruce and start praising Zoey.

"Zoey cooks for herself in the UK. Such a good girl. Whoever marries her will be lucky."

I spent my whole life getting torn down, thinking maybe I really wasn't enough.

Now I finally got it.

She kept me down so Zoey could shine, clearing the way for Zoey to marry into the Brighton family.

I took a breath, and typed:

[Mom, where did you get this photo?]

"Typing..." stayed on the screen for almost a full minute.

Then finally:

[A friend took it. Stop asking so many questions.]

I kept going.

[Which friend? When was it taken? Where?]

This time, she answered immediately.

[Why are you so focused on that? The point is he cheated! Stop nitpicking!]

She was rattled.

I let out a cold laugh and switched to voice message.

"Mom, I feel like I'm falling apart... What am I supposed to do..."

My voice shook like I was about to cry.

Three seconds later, her voice message popped up.

"My poor daughter! I knew Bruce couldn't be trusted! Rich men are all the same!"

Her voice sounded thick with fake tears. Seriously Oscar-worthy.

I kept playing along. "Then what should I do? Divorce him?"

She answered instantly. "Yes! You have to! The baby's still young. It's not too late!"

I pushed a little further. "But I can't let Bruce go."

Her next message came fast, already irritated. "What's so special about him? There are tons of men out there! Look at Jack next door. He's not bad. Okay, he's in his fifties and divorced three times, but he knows how to treat a woman! Not sure he'd even want you, though... I'll ask him someday."

My grip tightened around my phone.

Jack next door.

I knew exactly who she meant.

A drunk.

A wife-beater.

All three ex-wives ran away after he beat them.

Was that really all she thought I deserved?

Another voice message came through. "It's okay. I'll send Zoey over to stay with you for a few days. You girls can talk. Cheer you up a little."

After a pause, I typed: [Okay.]

She instantly spammed smiley emojis.

"Great! I'll have her come tomorrow!"

I exited the chat and reopened the post.

Sure enough, there was another update.

[Thanks, @LindaKnowsBest! My older daughter totally believed it. She cried her eyes out. I'm sending my younger daughter over to keep her company... and maybe "take care of" my son-in-law while she's there. My sweet girl is gentle and beautiful. I'm sure she'll win him over in no time. Once it works, I'll update everyone!]

People were still dragging her in the comments.

I shut off my phone and lay back down.

Staring at the ceiling, I suddenly smiled.

My husband, Bruce Brighton, wasn't some easy target.