Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 258

Rosalind felt sick to her stomach, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, Charlotte cut her off.

"So this is how you really feel about me? All this bitterness and spite-guess that's the real you, isn't it? I never expected you to be so cruel, to hate me so much that you can't even stand the sight of me. All I wanted was one meal at the same table with the father I haven't seen in years."

Then, Charlotte's voice suddenly softened, feigning understanding.

"But of course, I get it. You're angry. You've suffered. It's fine. If I'm not welcome at the table, I'll just eat my dinner on the front porch. Maybe from now on, I'll be the Harvey family's watchdog. Call it my penance-atoning for my mother's sins like I should."

Without another word, she stood, picked up the largest platter of roast meat, and strode toward the front door as if she truly meant to kneel outside and eat.

Charlotte didn't care about embarrassment. She'd dropped out of high school, working every odd job she could to pay for her mother's medical bills. She'd seen every shade of hardship, scraped her knees raw, and split her forehead open more times than she could count.

She had no reputation left to protect her pride was long gone. She'd do anything, sacrifice anything, if it meant saving her mother. Dignity was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Some people said shamelessness was a kind of invincibility. Maybe they were right.

Balancing the heavy plate of food, Charlotte walked steadily toward the doorway, ignoring the commotion behind her.

shaken by Charlotte's words that her face flushed crimson. She tried to shout back, but the rage

been silent this whole time, jumped up in alarm. "Mom!" she cried,

He

until her father called her back twice more. Only then did she pause, the faintest hint of a

turned, tears streaking her face. "I didn't think Rosalind would

his aching forehead.

downstairs for

with grateful

Upstairs, in the bedroom.

looked pale and drained, clutching her

now we have someone so low-born and sharp-tongued in our house. Who knows how she'll twist your father

Mom. It's

her best to soothe her. "She's all talk—no power, no influence, no

Rosalind's anxiety lingered. She still wasn't

as soon as possible. That's the only way you'll be safe. Your father's right, too—if you can't get the wedding date set quickly, then find a way to get pregnant