Double Divorce, Mother-Daughter Revenge

My mother's lips tightened into a stark, colorless line.

She inhaled a slow, measured breath, steeling herself.

This was a familiar maneuver, designed to banish any waver from her tone.

"Okay. Let's make it a joint divorce, then. Scarlett is your first love—your true legacy. Of course, she's more important than me. We were just a merger of convenience, after all. Besides, she represents a promise you made long before we ever met."

"Now that she has returned to the center of your universe, you are finally free to devote yourself to her."

"You should go pursue the love you actually want."

Julian's volume escalated, a sharp departure from the gentle cadence he reserved for Scarlett.

"Another divorce? So you and your daughter have decided marriage is a complete farce, that the commitment we made holds no value for either of you? You claimed you abandoned your first husband because he was unstable, but it's obvious now that you were the source of the chaos all along!

"Your jealousy is completely out of control!"

"Did the smoke get to your brain? Scarlett's assets were at risk. Shouldn't we have secured them? Her father’s collection was nearly lost, and as the executor of his estate, I shouldn't have gone to protect it?"

"Your paranoia has made you delusional. How can you be jealous of a business obligation?"

"You want a divorce? Fine! You can wait until the Ashford heir is born. And don't you or your daughter even think of taking that baby with you!"

Julian terminated the call before my mother could utter a single word; her phone followed suit, slipping from her hand to the floor with a muted clatter.

She then gazed out the window, remarking, "Chloe, men are all bastards."

In that moment, I understood her mind had drifted back to her past.

Mom had been a rising star in the art world, only to fall for a charismatic but penniless painter. This was the man Julian had referred to as my birth father.

Mom cut all ties with her patrons to be with my father and moved with him to a tiny studio.

At first, my father promised her the world. He told her he would work hard, make his name, and she would be the wife of a celebrated artist. Mom was still in her early twenties then, so she had believed every single word he had said.

Soon after, she discovered she was pregnant with me, a development that prompted my parents to hastily wed.

Mom told me that the nine months she was pregnant had been the best time of her life. She was his muse, his goddess. He painted her constantly and catered to her every need.

My birth, however, marked a shift in my father's disposition upon discovering I was a daughter; his demeanor towards Mom soured before she even left the hospital, and my infant cries would provoke him to berate her, branding her an impediment to his artistic genius.

That was how Mom lived her life for the next few years. My father was emotionally abusive toward her, either yelling or disappearing for days at a time.

When I turned seven years old, my father came home with another woman, telling Mom that he wanted a divorce. His reasoning was simple. His new "love" was a better muse.

My father then chased me and my mother out of the studio. We were penniless and owned nothing but her art books and my clothes.

For years, we led a nomadic life; Mom undertook art restoration projects while I attended school, and she managed to fund my college education with her meager earnings until I finally graduated.

The very same day I introduced my boyfriend to her was the day she revealed she had also met someone special.

It wasn't until we each brought our partners to see each other that we realized we'd fallen in love with the father-and-son duo from Ashford Architecture.

A month later, we both got married on the same day. I was married to the star architect Liam Ashford, the son, while Mom was married to Julian Ashford, the firm's founder.

Liam's mother had died from cancer a few years ago. On our wedding day, Mom had held Liam's hand in hers, saying, "Liam, I'll be your mother from today onward."

Meanwhile, Julian also held my hand and said, "Chloe, I'll be your father from today onward."

The moment was incredibly moving, and looking back, I can still recall its profound warmth.

However, both Mom and I had been so caught up in our happiness that we never realized that some other things were also starting to take root—our wedding day was set on the same day as the anniversary of the death of Julian’s founding partner.

It was obvious what this meant to them both.

Additionally, both Liam and Julian had personally phoned his daughter, Scarlett, pleading for her presence at our weddings.

Liam's words are seared into my memory: "Scarlett, your being here would mean the world to me."

I hadn't thought much about it back then. But now that I looked back at it, these had all been warning signs from the start. Scarlett was someone special to the Ashfords.

Still, there was something I couldn't understand.

Liam had his own mother. So, why did he defer to Scarlett so much? He would even think that no one else could ever measure up to her.

I suspect that if my mother, Scarlett, and I had all been caught in today's fire, our funerals would have been scheduled only after the insurance payout was secured.

I sat beside my mother on the bed, each of us aimlessly scrolling through our phones.

Scarlett happened to be featured on a major magazine's website just then.