Chapter 12

“Thanks,” Jared said. Without sparing me another glance, he strode away.

I spun on my heel and left. Since I hadn’t had a single drink at dinner, I got in the car and drove. In the afternoon, I met my violin coach and locked in the next batch of lessons.

That night, when I got home, Jared still wasn’t there. I fired up my computer and started working through the Englysian tutor’s lessons.

The next afternoon, Yvonne had a horseback riding lesson that required a parent to be there. Right after I canceled, Jared called and asked, “Why’d you cancel Yvonne’s riding lesson?”

I kept my voice steady. “I have a class this afternoon too. No time to go.”

“Victoria, this has gone way too far. What the hell is your problem?” Jared finally snapped—Yvonne was his absolute bottom line.

I knew he’d blow up, so I kept my cool. “I’ll hire another servant tomorrow. She can take Yvonne to her lessons, drop her off at school, pick her up—won’t interfere with her grades one bit.”

Jared raised his voice. “You’re Yvonne’s mother.”

“Blood doesn’t always make the best family,” I said, speaking from hard experience.

In my previous life, I had doted on Yvonne, pouring my entire heart into her, but she only had eyes for Tracy.

When Tracy had that little surgery, Yvonne ran to sit by her bed, fawning over her. And when I was on my deathbed, she felt sorry for Tracy instead.

What was the point of raising a kid like that? To tear my heart to pieces?

“Are you doing this to get back at me?” Jared’s voice turned frigid.

I stayed quiet.

“So if I don’t let you work, you’ll keep giving Yvonne the cold shoulder? Victoria, do you know how to be a mother? You’re ignoring your daughter to focus only on yourself,” Jared shouted. He’d guessed my game, and it made him seethe.

I couldn’t care less how angry he got. Right now, I was only focused on my happiness.

“Fine.” He suddenly backed down. “Your college major was hotel management, right? Take over the company’s two hotels, and you’ll get half the profits. But if they tank, you come home, take care of Yvonne, and drop this whole thing for good.”

My little protest actually worked? I perked up, suddenly willing to talk. “Then I’ll head to Yvonne’s riding lesson this afternoon.”

“Victoria, being too clever isn’t always a good thing. Using Yvonne as leverage against me isn’t smart,” Jared said coldly before hanging up.

I kept my tone calm. “Got it, honey. Thanks for the lesson. With a husband this generous, I’d better step up my game. I’ll study hard.”

“Victoria!” Jared’s voice rose with rage.

“Gotta go, or I’ll be late for the lesson. Bye.” I hung up, giving him no chance to respond.

Then I drove to the riding school and found a red-eyed Yvonne. She sat with a pouty expression, while a teacher stayed by her side. Other kids were happily riding their horses.

“Yvonne, I’m here,” I called, walking over.

Yvonne shot me a look like I was the last person on earth she wanted to see. “I don’t want you here. I want Daddy!”

I crouched down to meet her eyes. “Oh yeah? Did he say he was coming?”

The teacher jumped in quickly. “Mrs. Holcomb, Mr. Holcomb said he was tied up, but you’d be here. Yvonne’s still pretty upset. Maybe you could comfort her?”

“Comfort her?” I plopped down next to Yvonne. “She’s too big for that.”

Yvonne’s glare got even sharper, like I was some evil stepmother.

The teacher let out an awkward laugh. “Yvonne, talk to your mom first. I’ll come back to get you for riding in a bit.”

Yvonne’s eyes blazed. Her little fists were clenched so tight that I thought if she were older, she might have swung.

I lifted my hand slightly.

Instantly, her fists unclenched. With a wail, she threw herself into my lap, sobbing. “Mommy, how could you ignore me? Why were you late?”

With calculated precision, I patted her shoulder. “Quit crying. Let’s go ride.”

Yvonne wiped her tears and followed the teacher off to class.

I took a seat near a group of wealthy wives. A few of them had fancier backgrounds than me, but most didn’t. There were even some politicians’ wives, holding court.

Those women—married to money—had a natural air of pride. A few were busy schmoozing and sucking up, but most kept to themselves, pretty reserved.

“Mrs. Holcomb, we’re doing a baking class tonight. Wanna bring your little one?” a woman asked.

I smiled, “I’m swamped.”

“My husband knows Mr. Holcomb. You should bring him over,” she pushed.

I shook my head. “Really, no time.”

That night, I saw the “baking” photos that woman posted on her Twitter. In one, a group of guys sat on a couch drinking coffee, and Jared was among them. In another, Yvonne was focused on making a cake layer, with Tracy sitting right next to her.