Page 88 of What the Wife Knew

Shit. “I’m not.”

“Go to Richmond’s office. Now.”

Away from the big window where I could track Portia. I obeyed because Kathryn lifted the bat. Once in the other room, she lowered the shade and shut the curtains, blocking my view.

“I know who your mother is. The question is, who are you?”

For someone acting so irrationally, Kathryn sounded fine. That scared me more than the bat. “What does that mean?”

“It’s a simple question,” Kathryn said. “Are you Richmond’s daughter?”

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Her

Nine Years Earlier

“You are not leaving this house, young lady.”

Mom was in a mood. She knew about the graduation party, yet she hit me with that furious tone. She acted like I’d done something wrong when my day consisted of attending the ceremony and eating fast food takeout with her on the couch. I’d thrown stuff away. Cleaned up. Those completed chores should buy me a ticket out of the house for a few hours.

Mom had other ideas, but she missed one very important fact. I didn’t have to listen to her anymore.

I held on to the doorknob so I could make a quick exit. Her temper had shifted from neutral to shrieking and it sounded like things were about to get worse. “I’m eighteen. I graduated from high school today.”

Her hands went to her hips. “You act like something magical happened when you picked up your diploma.”

Yeah, freedom. “I’m an adult now.”

“That’s good to know.” Sarcasm flowed out of her, spilling across the floor and tainting everything in its path.

She couldn’t let one hour just be about me. Every celebration, every conversation, had to link back to her and be on her terms.During the few times the spotlight shifted, that I experienced a moment of triumph, she swooped in and trampled it.

That was the reality of our relationship. She tolerated me as long as I didn’t overshadow her. If I towed the line, she didn’t launch verbal grenades in my direction.

“Mom, come on.” I’d stopped begging her for anything years ago but tonight mattered. I didn’t have the money to leave home yet, but the day was coming.

“No, I heard you. You’re an adult.” She walked over to the basket on the kitchen table where she put the bills. “That means it’s time you start paying half of the rent.”

I didn’t respond because doing so would only inflame the situation. With her anger building the only option was to stand there and take it.

“Are you prepared to do that, Addison? How about the utilities?”

She whipped an envelope at me. It landed at my feet. Reaching for it meant breaking eye contact, so it stayed where it was.

“The car insurance.” She threw a second envelope.

I didn’t move.

She gestured toward the refrigerator. “All the food you eat.”

My job was to be grateful and silent. Any other day, sure, but this standoff had been simmering under the surface for weeks, waiting to explode.

“Why do you hate me so much?” The question I’d been wanting to ask since I turned ten.

Her expression didn’t change. If the words shocked or offended her, she didn’t show it. “I could have gotten rid of you. Abortion. Adoption. Everyone told me to pick one, but I didn’t.”

I’d heard this speech before. More guilt. Nothing about loving me.

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