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.

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

jumped up in alarm. "Mom!" she cried, rushing

temples. He barked, "Stop right there!

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

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

and massaged his aching forehead. He

be downstairs for dinner

grateful tears.

Upstairs, in the bedroom.

back with her mother long before Rosalind came to. She looked pale

Giselle... now we have someone so low-born and sharp-tongued in our house. Who knows how

Mom. It's

talk—no power, no influence, no claim to any inheritance. She can't

Rosalind's anxiety lingered. She still wasn't

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 first.