Robert couldn’t speak. His eyes were wide, glassy, staring at the phone screen where my face remained calm, cold, and unbothered.
“Audrey,” he choked out into the speaker. “Audrey, please… don’t do this to me. We can talk about this. I’ll send Tiffany away. My mother will apologize. Just call your lawyer. Tell them it was a mistake.”
His mother shoved her way into the camera’s view, her face twisted in rage, her regal composure completely shattered. “You vicious, spiteful woman!” she screamed at the screen. “My son gave you his youth! He gave you respectability! You think because you have money you can discard people like trash? Tiffany is carrying a child—a Miller! You are destroying a innocent family!”
I watched her through the screen. My heart didn’t race. My blood didn’t boil. I felt a strange, sublime stillness.
“You’re right, Eleanor,” I said softly through the phone, my voice echoing over the gate’s speaker for everyone on the street to hear. “Some women only make money. Some women give heirs. But you forgot the third kind of woman.”
