Before I could recover, Thomas shoved his mom's phone into my face. The cold and sharp edge of the phone hit the same spot, causing another stab of pain. "Look! Look at this message from your oh-so-good mother!" he shouted.
I struggled to open my teary, blurred eyes. The WhatsApp message read: [In-law, the bride price is 188,800 dollars. Otherwise, don't expect to see Olivia tomorrow!]
Tara added fuel to the fire, "Mrs. Royce stayed up all night trying to gather the money. It caused her chronic headaches to flare up for days!"
I stared at the message. Its assertive tone didn't seem like something my mom would say. But the account in the chat window was indeed hers.
Before the police could step in, Tara turned to my mom, her voice gentle, "Mrs. Reed, may I see your phone to confirm your chat history with Mrs. Royce?"
My mom's visible panic made my heart sink.
Seeing this, Mrs. Royce immediately pressed further, "Take it out! Lilian!"
Fidgeting with her clothes, my mom stammered after a long pause, "I ... I deleted the chats."