Page 77 of Open Secrets
What comes back is… promising, if a little annoying.
First tip: Don’t confront her.
“Whatever,” I mutter. Sure, let’s just sit back while some psycho waddles around with a baby bump, threatening to tank my husband’s career. Might as well tell me not to breathe.
Don’t confront her. Yeah, because the last time I took that advice, Bethany lied to my mother-in-law and stole five years from us.
Five years. Just gone. Because I kept my head down, because I thought,well, it’ll blow over, no need to make a scene.Spoiler: it didn’t blow over. It calcified. Bethany whispered one poisoned sentence, and suddenly I was the villain, cut out of holidays, birthdays, hospitalSo,no, AI, don’t tell me, “don’t confront her.” I’ve lived that mistake already.
And now? Now I can’t believe I have to deal withhertoo.
It’s not enough that I agreed—against every screaming nerve in my body—to be Anna’s maid of honour. How the hell am I supposed to go dress shopping with that bitch hovering in the background?
I can already see it: Anna twirling in front of a mirror in some overpriced boutique, her mom crying into a tissue, and Bethany lounging in the corner like she belongs there.
And me? Standing there, holding a clutch of sequined fabric and pretending I don’t want to hurl it at her face.
God. The woman is nearly forty and still acting like the same spoiled thirteen-year-old who once batted her lashes and giggled at her best friend’s older brother.
And Lyle—
I stop myself. No. Not the time. Not when my brain is already half a second from spiralling into a full-blown panic attack inside a car. I focus back on my phone.
Second tip: Gather evidence.
I perk up. “Hey, Lyle—did she send you any texts or emails about this whole thing?”
He shakes his head as he pulls the car into a space.
I sigh and go back to reading.
Third: Get a paternity test.
“Useless,” I mutter. We’re trying to avoid insinuating there’s a possibility.
Fourth: Talk to a lawyer.
“Hey, Lyle,” I start, only to look up and realize the driver’s seat is empty.
“Yes,” he says from right outside my door, making me jump.
“Jesus,” I huff, pressing a hand to my chest.
He just smirks, opening my door wider. “Come on.”
Reluctantly, I close the tab as he guides me out.
“We could ask Anna to file a cease-and-desist,” I offer as he steers me toward the restaurant.
“You really wanna tell Anna about this?” he asks.
I pause, grimacing. “…Good point. She’ll tell Bethany, and then we’ll havetwobitches on our ass.”
He chuckles under his breath, but I can tell he’s not laughing that hard.
The last tip on the screen flashes in my mind:Protect your family.
I mutter under my breath as we step inside the restaurant. “What the hell do you think I’m trying to do, AI?”
