A Porsche worth over a million dollars—she was willing to buy it for her son-in-law. Meanwhile, when I'd asked for a thirty-thousand-dollar handbag, she'd scolded me for being wasteful.
I couldn't stomach another second of their nauseating conversation. I hung up.
Then I turned to my mom, who'd been waiting eagerly for her son-in-law to arrive so they could all go claim the prize together, and told her everything.
Tears spilled from her clouded eyes.
She trembled with rage, gripping my hand so tightly her knuckles went white. This woman, well past fifty, was too hurt to even speak.
My heart sank. I looked her straight in the eyes and said firmly, "Mom, you're the one who won the lottery. Don't tell Clement."
She looked confused, so I explained slowly: "Since he wants to be heartless, let him stay in the dark. After the divorce is finalized, we'll tell him the truth—and watch just how far he's willing to go."
A few minutes later, there was rustling outside the door. The electronic lock beeped, and the door swung open with force.
Clement James walked in. The moment he saw me and my mother, undisguised disgust flickered across his face.