Chapter 8 - The Dinner Where My Mother-in-Law Tried to Humiliate Me|
Constance invited me to Sunday dinner.
I knew it was a trap.
Her message was unusually polite.
Lydia, we should discuss matters like adults. Please join us at seven. No lawyers.
I showed Meredith.
She raised an eyebrow.
“No lawyers?”
“That's what she wrote.”
“Then I strongly advise against discussing settlement terms there.”
I nodded.
But I decided to attend briefly without Poppy, after making clear in writing that I wouldn't negotiate legal matters.
I wanted to hear what Constance was telling the family.
When I arrived, Ross's uncle, two cousins, Delia, and several longtime family friends were already gathered in the dining room.
Tiffany sat beside Ross.
Wearing my bracelet.
Again.
Constance greeted me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
“Lydia, darling. How gracious of you to come.”
I removed my coat.
“I'm here to discuss family communication, not sign anything.”
Ross looked irritated.
“Can we not start with threats?”
I stared at him.
“Boundaries aren't threats.”
Dinner began with uncomfortable conversation.
Then Constance stood and raised her wineglass.
“I'd like to say something about family loyalty.”
I looked toward the ceiling.
Of course she did.
She continued.
“Some people become accustomed to a comfortable lifestyle and forget who made it possible.”
Delia smiled.
Ross stared at his plate.
Tiffany pretended to study her wine.
Constance looked directly at me.
“Being married to a successful man doesn't mean you built his success.”
The room fell silent.
I placed my fork on the table.
“Are you speaking to me?”
She smiled.
“If the shoe fits.”
I took a slow breath.
“Then perhaps we should discuss who paid for the shoes.”
Ross stiffened.
“Lydia.”
I ignored him.
“Constance, when Ross launched his business, my family's trust provided two million dollars in startup capital.”
Her smile disappeared.
I continued.
“I worked on the initial financial projections, supplier agreements, and operating budget. And our trust still owns a substantial stake in the company.”
His uncle frowned.
“Ross, is that true?”
Ross cleared his throat.
“Lydia's family made an investment years ago.”
I looked at him.
“An investment that remains legally documented.”
Constance slammed her wineglass down.
“You're trying to embarrass my son.”
“No. I'm correcting the impression you've spent twelve years encouraging.”
Delia stood.
“You're making everything about money.”
I turned toward her.
“Then why did you prepare so many consulting invoices?”
Her face drained.
Silence spread across the table.
Tiffany slowly lowered her wineglass.
Ross stared at me.
“What invoices?”
I met his eyes.
“Westbridge Advisory Partners.”
For one second, I saw genuine panic cross Delia's face.
Then Constance spoke.
“Lydia, leave this house.”
I stood calmly.
“With pleasure.”
As I reached the doorway, Ross followed me.
He grabbed my arm.
“Listen to me.”
I pulled away.
“Don't touch me.”
His voice dropped.
“You don't understand what you've just done.”
I looked at him.
“Then explain it.”
He stared at me.
Then whispered:
“Delia wasn't supposed to be involved.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Ross, what did your sister do?”
May you like
He looked toward the dining room.
And said nothing.
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