Chapter 4 - War of the In-Laws
By 8:00 AM the next morning, my phone was ringing off the hook.
I let it ring six times before finally answering on speakerphone while making breakfast for Sophie and Caleb.
“Caroline! What in God’s name is the meaning of this?!”
Margaret’s screech filled the sunlit kitchen. I could hear the background noise of her luxurious townhome in Beacon Hill, complete with the clinking of teacups.
“Good morning, Margaret,” I said coolly, spreading butter on a piece of toast.
“The manager of The Back Bay Grill just called Nathan threatening to send a collection agency to my home!” she shouted. “They said the card on file was flagged for fraud! My reputation in this city is being destroyed because of your petty, malicious behavior!”
“It’s not fraud, Margaret,” I replied smoothly. “I simply revoked payment for an event I was explicitly banned from attending. I only pay for parties I am invited to enjoy.”
“That was Nathan’s event for me!” she raged. “He is your husband! You are legally obligated to support his family expenses!”
I laughed out loud. “Legally obligated? Margaret, Nathan makes eighty thousand dollars a year at his mid-tier consulting firm. My personal family trust and design firm generate four times that. Every single luxury you have enjoyed from us over the last three years—the summer house rental in Martha’s Vineyard, the spa weekends, the catered holidays—was paid for by my money. Not Nathan’s.”
There was a sudden, sharp silence on the line.
“That… that is a complete lie,” Margaret stammered, though her confidence was noticeably shaken. “Nathan told me he managed the finances!”
“Nathan lied to you because he wanted to look like a big man,” I said mercilessly. “He let you believe he was rescuing a helpless widow and her children, while in reality, he hasn’t paid a single month’s rent on this apartment since we got married.”
In the background, I heard Nathan’s frantic voice shouting, “Mom, don’t listen to her! Hang up!”
“Listen to me carefully, Margaret,” I continued, my voice cutting through like a surgeon’s knife. “The restaurant bill is $17,000. The florist bill is $3,500. And the jazz trio is owed $1,200. I have officially removed my name from all three invoices. If they are not paid by noon today, the event venue will be filing a civil suit against Nathan.”
“You monster!” Margaret gasped. “You’re ruining my family!”
“No, Margaret,” I said softly. “You ruined your family the second you told my children they were burdens. Have a wonderful day.”
I hung up the phone and immediately dialed my family attorney, Richard Vance.
“Richard,” I said when he answered. “I need you to draft divorce papers immediately. And I want a emergency order of protection prohibiting Nathan Cole and his family from entering my property.”
“I’ll have the paperwork ready by three o’clock, Caroline,” Richard said without hesitation. “Are you okay?”
I looked across the kitchen island.
May you like
Caleb was smiling, eating his pancakes, while Sophie gave me a proud thumbs-up from her sketchbook.
“I’m better than okay, Richard,” I said. “I’m finally clear-headed.”
