Chapter 1
On the fifth day of my older sister Drusilla Winslow’s postpartum confinement, her mother-in-law, Margaret Thorne, slapped her in the face with the divorce papers.
Margaret sneered, "How come you're so skilled at changing diapers? Don't tell me you've done this before. Must've had a kid already!"
My mom, Yvonne Winslow, was trembling with rage.
"My daughter watched parenting videos every single day while she was pregnant, and spent three months practicing on a practice doll at home!" she retorted.
Margaret scoffed, "Who gets this good with their first baby? She's definitely hiding something!"
"My son got tricked by you! There's no way this kid is his!" she fumed.
Harvey Thorne, Drusilla's husband, stood off to the side, not daring to say a word.
I stormed into the maternity ward, grabbed Harvey by the collar, and dropped a line that shut his whole family up.
*****
It was the fifth day after Drusilla's C-section, and she was still in the hospital.
My mom had just pushed open the door to the maternity ward, carrying a thermos, when something was suddenly hurled out from inside.
There was a sharp smack.
A thin booklet landed right at my mom's feet.
The bold black letters on the cover practically stabbed your eyes.
Divorce papers.
Inside the maternity ward, Margaret, Harvey's mother, stood with her hands on her hips, spitting venom at Drusilla, who was lying in bed.
"Drusilla, quit playing dead!" Margaret snapped.
"You think the Thorne family would fall for a second-hand woman like you? No way!" she fumed.
Drusilla had just finished breastfeeding.
She was leaning weakly against the headboard, her face as pale as a sheet.
She cradled her newborn son in her arms.
The baby was fast asleep, totally oblivious to the insults his mother was suffering.
My mom was trembling with anger as she burst in.
She grabbed the divorce papers off the floor.
"Margaret, are you out of your mind?" my mom snapped.
"My daughter just brought your grandson into the world, and you're already pushing her to get divorced?" she stormed.
Margaret let out a cold, mocking laugh, her wrinkled face looking extra mean.
She jabbed a finger at Drusilla, her voice so shrill it was like nails on a chalkboard.
"Grandson? Who even knows whose bastard this kid is!" she blurted out.
My mom was so furious she could barely breathe.
"What nonsense are you spouting?" my mom snapped.
Margaret curled her lip in disdain, her eyes stabbing at Drusilla like knives.
"Me, talking nonsense?" she shot back.
"Go ask your precious daughter!" she yellled.
"This is her first kid, and she's already changing diapers like a pro?
"She's way quicker than me, and I've popped out two kids myself!" she stormed.
"I saw her yesterday, unless she's been practicing for years, there's just no way!" she added.
My mom was so exasperated by this absurd accusation that she nearly burst out laughing.
"Seriously? That's your reason?" my mom snapped.
"My daughter watched parenting videos every night while she was pregnant, and spent three months practicing with a practice doll she bought!" she explained.
Then she went on, "She even went through two whole packs of diapers just practicing!
"She was terrified she'd mess up and not be able to take care of the baby right!"
"Instead of comforting her for all her hard work, you're using this to accuse her of being impure?" she retorted.
Margaret tossed her head back, looking like she'd seen right through everything.
"Oh, please, who are you trying to fool?" she sneered.
"What kind of normal girl from a good family would practice changing diapers before she's even had a kid?" she sneered.
"She's guilty as hell, that's why she practiced ahead of time, so nobody would catch on she's already popped one out!" she said ironically.
"My son's a total pushover, your daughter's got him dancing in circles! The Thorne family isn't gonna be suckers for this!" she added.
She got more and more worked up, jabbing her finger at the baby in Drusilla's arms.
"This kid is definitely not my son's!" Margaret snapped.
"The Thorne family doesn't want some kid with questionable parentage!
"Sign the papers and take your brat, get out of our family!" she ordered.
Every word hit her right where it hurt.
Every word felt like a poisoned needle, stabbing right into Drusilla's heart.
Drusilla unconsciously hugged her baby tighter.
She looked up at Harvey, who had been shrinking in the corner the whole time, not saying a single word.
There was one last flicker of hope in her eyes.
She just wanted Harvey to stand up for her, even if he only said one thing.
But when Harvey met her gaze, he instinctively looked away.
He hung his head, staring at his toes like there was some priceless treasure on the floor.
That last bit of hope in Drusilla's eyes was completely snuffed out.
It turned to ashes.
My mom stood in front of the bed, like an angry lioness.
"Harvey, do you even call yourself a man?
"Your mom's tearing your wife down, and you just stand there doing nothing?" she snapped.
Harvey flinched when his name was called, then slowly lifted his head.
He forced a smile that was uglier than crying, his voice so quiet it was almost a squeak.
"Mom, Drusilla...she's not like that," Harvey mumbled.
Margaret immediately turned her anger on her son.
"You're still defending her?"