Chapter 5 - A Viper in Cashmere
When I arrived back at the house, Patricia’s silver Mercedes was already parked in the driveway.
I found her upstairs in the newly painted nursery. The room was supposed to be a sanctuary of soft sage green and white linen, a haven I had spent months curating for my baby. But Patricia had already ruined it.
She had brought along two interior designers who were measuring the windows, holding up heavy, garish gold brocade draperies.
"Patricia," I said from the doorway, keeping my breathing even. "What is going on here?"
Patricia turned, wearing a pastel yellow cashmere twinset and a string of pearls. She smiled, but her eyes were cold, assessing every inch of me like an appraiser looking at a condemned property.
"Oh, Rachel! There you are. I decided this pale green is simply too washed out. A Bennett child needs substance. Heritage. We are redoing the nursery in traditional navy and gold."
"This is my daughter's room," I said quietly, stepping inside. "And I like the green."
"Now, darling, don't be obstinate," Patricia chuckled dismissively, waving her hand at the designers to step outside into the hallway. When the door clicked shut behind them, the polite mask fell away entirely. "Matthew told me about your little tantrum last night. It was deeply embarrassing, Rachel. Evelyn made a spectacle, but you fueled it with your petulant silence."
"I asked for my seat at a family dinner, Patricia."
"You don't understand your place," Patricia snapped, her voice dropping into a harsh, venomous whisper. "You never have. You were an ornament for Matthew's bachelor phase. But he is stepping onto the national stage now. He needs a partner who brings capital, connections, and political pedigree. Not a schoolteacher’s daughter who gets lightheaded after an hour in high heels."
She opened her designer leather tote and pulled out a thick, blue-bound legal document, tossing it carelessly onto the changing table.
"What is that?" I asked, though I already knew.
"An addendum to your prenuptial agreement," Patricia said smoothly. "Given your recent emotional volatility and the immense stress the upcoming corporate merger is putting on Matthew, we have established an independent guardianship trust for the child. The trust will cover all your living expenses in a separate townhouse outside the city limits, provided you relinquish primary physical custody to Matthew and the designated family governess."
I stared at her. The audacity was breathtaking. They weren't even waiting for the delivery room. They were trying to get me to surrender my unborn child while standing in her nursery.
"And who is the designated governess, Patricia?" I asked, my voice chillingly calm. "Lauren Davis?"
Patricia didn't even flinch. She smiled with cruel satisfaction. "Lauren has impeccable breeding. She understands the social obligations of this family. She will ensure the child is raised properly. If you sign this quietly, Matthew will grant you generous visitation rights—alternate weekends, supervised, of course. If you refuse..."
Patricia took a step closer, her manicured finger tapping the paper. "...we will have Dr. Holloway declare you mentally unfit due to severe prenatal psychosis. You won't see a dime, and you won't see that baby until she's eighteen. Think very carefully, Rachel."
My heart hammered against my ribs like a caged bird, but the fear didn't paralyze me. It turned into pure, crystalline rage.
"I won't sign a thing today," I said, meeting her gaze without blinking. "My doctor told me any undue stress could trigger premature labor. If you want this signed, leave it on the table. I'll have my counsel review it."
Patricia smirked, clearly interpreting my hesitation as defeat. "Smart girl. I knew you'd see reason once the fairy tale ended. We need it signed by Friday before the Heritage Gala. Matthew wants everything tidied up before his big announcement."
She turned on her heel and strode out, the faint scent of gardenia trailing after her like toxic smoke.
When the front door slammed downstairs, I collapsed into the rocking chair, trembling from head to toe. I pulled out my phone and dialed Julian Vance.
"Julian," I whispered, fighting back tears of fury. "They just gave me the paperwork. They want me to give up custody."
"Did you sign?"
"No."
"Good," Julian’s deep voice answered, vibrating with lethal confidence. "Because we just discovered something far bigger. Lauren Davis isn't just Matthew's mistress, Rachel. She's been selling confidential Bennett Enterprises project blueprints to a competing developer in Atlanta. And she’s been depositing the kickbacks into that Isle of Palms LLC account."
I gasped. "Matthew is being played by her?"
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"He's being completely dismantled by her, and he's too blind with vanity to see it," Julian replied. "Keep the contract Patricia gave you. It will be exhibit A when we expose them both."
***
