Chapter 4

Before leaving, she printed out every bank record and sorted them neatly into document folders. She stood in front of the mirror for a while, wondering if she should change into something nicer.

Then she laughed. Why should she bother dressing up for them?

She went out in that same faded sweatshirt.

At the coffee shop, Mrs. Nolan and Michael Nolan had already been waiting a while.

Michael was wearing a trendy sweatshirt, with a pair of Beats headphones hanging around his neck, one leg crossed over the other as he scrolled short videos on his phone. When he saw Charlotte come in, he glanced up once and then dropped his head again.

Her mother gave her a once-over, frowning at once. "Why are you dressed like that? It's embarrassing if people see you."

Charlotte sat down across from her and didn't respond.

"I asked you to come out because I have something to say." She set the document folder on the table without opening it.

Her mother took a sip of coffee, sounding annoyed. "Couldn't you just say it over the phone? Why'd we have to come all the way out here?"

"Yeah, sis," Michael said without even looking up, "I've got dinner plans tonight. Don't waste my time."

Charlotte looked at the two of them.

Her mother, in her fifties, wore a velvet dress with gold earrings and a gold necklace, every inch of her screaming that she was living well.

Her brother, twenty-five years old, had graduated three years ago and never held a real job. Latest phone. Limited-edition clothes. Living expenses all paid by their mother.

And Charlotte sat there in a faded sweatshirt, with only about 70 dollars cash in her pocket. This coffee was the only time she had spent money outside all week.

She thought, so this was the difference between a son and a daughter in a family that favored boys.

"Mom," she said, "I've decided to get divorced."

Her mother's coffee cup paused in midair.

"You said what?"

"I said I'm divorcing Edward Lane."

"Have you lost your mind?" Her mother slammed the coffee cup onto the table, her voice turning shrill. "Divorce him for what? You're a housewife. What are you going to do after that? How are you going to support yourself?"

Michael finally looked up too, though clearly his concern was somewhere else. "What about the house if you divorce? Eddie said that place would be mine someday."

Charlotte looked at her brother and suddenly found it ridiculous.

Edward had said the house would be his someday? When? Under what conditions? She didn't know. But right then, she couldn't even be bothered to dig into the details.

She opened the folder and laid the bank statements out on the table one by one.

"Mom, these are Edward's bank statements from the past two years. I already know about the 2,000 dollars he sends you every month."

Her mother's face changed instantly.

"You went through his finances? You... how could you..."

"I did more than go through his finances," Charlotte cut in, her voice so calm it sounded like she was talking about someone else's life. "I also checked everything he bought for his mistress, the assets he moved, and exactly who got that so-called 67,000 dollars project consulting fee from Everstyle Studio."

She paused and looked straight into her mother's eyes.

"Mom, you knew he had someone else. You knew how much money he was spending on that woman. You knew that 2,000 dollars a month was hush money to keep you quiet. You knew all of it, and you never told me."

Her mother's lips moved like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

Michael spoke first instead. "Sis, Mom was doing it for your own good. If you get divorced, where are you gonna live? What are you gonna eat? And anyway, that little bit of money Eddie gave Mom isn't even much. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

Charlotte turned and looked at her brother.

"Not much? Forty-eight thousand dollars over two years isn't much?"

Michael curled his lip. "That was just him being good to Mom. What's that got to do with you?"

Charlotte ignored him and kept looking at her mother.

"Mom, I didn't ask you here to fight. I'm here to tell you three things."

She raised a finger.

"First, I am divorcing Edward. No matter what you say, that's final."

"Second, after the divorce, I won't be giving you another dime. If you need money after that, ask your son."

"Third, whatever happened between you and Edward, I won't pursue it. But starting today, you choose. Him or me."

Her mother's face drained from red to white, then from white to green.

"You..." Her voice shook. "Are you threatening me?"

"Not threatening you," Charlotte said. "Informing you."

Her mother shot to her feet so fast she knocked over her coffee cup. Brown liquid spilled across the table.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" her mother screeched, loud enough to cut through the whole coffee shop. "You're just a worthless woman living off a man. What gives you the right to set conditions for me? If you leave Edward, you won't even be able to feed yourself. And you think you can stop giving me money? Dream on!"

Everyone in the coffee shop turned to look.

Charlotte sat there without moving, calmly taking the full force of her mother's rage.

"Once you're divorced, you'll be nothing!" her mother shouted, pointing a shaking finger at her. "You think you can go back to design? You haven't touched it in three years. Who's going to hire you? Society has already passed you by, so what makes you think you can—"

"Enough."

Charlotte stood up.

She was half a head taller than her mother, and the moment she rose, her mother instinctively took a step back.

"You said I'm a worthless woman living off a man," Charlotte said. Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was sharp and clear. "Then what does that make you? You took hush money from your son-in-law and helped your daughter's husband hide his cheating. And you call that looking out for yourself?"

Her mother opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"You asked what I can do after divorce?" Charlotte looked at her. "You'll see."

She reached into her bag, took out an envelope, and placed it on the table.

"There's 7,000 dollars in here. Consider it the last money you'll ever get from me. If you call asking for more after today, I won't answer."

Her mother stared at the envelope, then at Charlotte, lips trembling too hard to form words.

"And you," Charlotte said, turning to Michael, "you're twenty-five already. Stop bleeding this family dry. I don't owe you anything."

Michael's face turned red. "What the hell are you talking about?"