Eyes blazing, she accused me of making stuff up, claiming I didn't treat her like a human, just because I looked down on her social class.
I fired up the closet cam, and there she was, drooling over my jewels, sneaking into my outfits, and — no surprise — splitting the seams because they didn't fit.
"You're just blowing Logan's cash! Grandma wanted me to marry him, you stole my chance, and now you dare argue over a few outfits?"
Before I could snap back, the girl stormed out, crushed.
Her drama was quite the performance; even Mr. Taylor's oddball relatives weren't this much trouble.
I had Mrs. Warner on standby with some aspirin, knowing the real drama with the old ladies was about to kick off.
Barely two hours later, Logan's mom, Nancy Taylor, barged in with an entourage of fuming grannies.
They flopped down on the sofa, demanding I kneel.
"Jessie, back in the day, a woman's jealousy could have gotten you dunked in a pig cage! Being a Taylor means holding yourself with dignity. Logan has his status now, and it's no biggie even if he has an affair. Granny's decided, Bianca stays here; maid work's beneath her."