Chapter 213

Chapter 213

I would just be pissed off if it were any other day.

But right then, their antics were just hilariously pathetic, and it made all the irritation I was feeling evaporate.

I chuckled and tossed two words back at them. “Not divorced.”

Their smug smiles froze instantly. Ever the skeptic, Margaret scoffed, “How is that possible? Bry went out of his way to alert the town hall, insisting on getting the divorce certificate with you as soon as possible. Cut the act, Jane. A divorce is nothing to be ashamed of.”

I just shrugged, playing it cool. “Guess Bryant had a change of heart. You know, ‘til death do us part and all that jazz. Not everyone can live up to those vows.”

“Jane, how can you be so…” Margaret glared at me, wishing to claw my eyes out, but Teresa cut her off, “For heaven’s sake, Margaret, you’re thirty. Why do you let her get under your skin like this?”

Then, Teresa turned to me with a curious look, “Is that true?”

I shrugged. “Why don’t you check?”

And she did. Striding into the office with all the entitlement in the world, she announced, “I’m Bryant’s mother.

I wondered if she could be any more shameless.

Having seen her trailing Bryant earlier, the clerk took her word for it, “Mrs. Ferguson, how can I help?”

“Did those two just divorce?”

“No, ma’am.”

“What?”

“Mr. Ferguson had to leave unexpectedly.” The clerk was just being honest.

Outside, Margaret and I overheard everything. She exploded, “Jane, you’re nothing but a bitch, playing your tricks again?”

She tried to take a swing at me, but I was ready. Not only did I dodge, but I also gave her a good slap, laughing. “That was for pushing me, Margaret. Bitch? Oh please, you take the prize for being the biggest one.”

Margaret was stunned, her hand flying to her cheek, her expression twisted, “How dare you hit me?”

“Why not? You’re asking for it, aren’t you?” I casually replied, pulling a wet wipe from my purse to clean my hands, “Margaret, touching you makes me feel dirty.”

With that, I turned to leave, eager

to escape the drama.

It wouldn’t be long before Teresa saw the news online, and I couldn’t wait to get as far away from this mess as possible.

But Teresa wasn’t about to let me go without a word. She stepped out, heard me calling Margaret out, and grabbed her daughter to prevent any further catfight, speaking up with a misguided sense of logic. “Ms. Webster, that’s a bit rich coming from you. You know, Margaret knew Bry first. Your actions, coming in between them, are what people call a homewrecker. And yet, you have the nerve to call her names?”

I suddenly understood why Margaret could be so shameless. Like mother, like daughter. It was in their genes, unchangeable, etched into their very bones.

I turned back, looking at Teresa’s mother–hen act, and couldn’t help feeling malicious, “Teresa, no matter what your daughter does, you always have her back, don’t you?”

Margaret even dared to sleep with Teresa’s husband, a behavior undoubtedly encouraged by Teresa. Margaret was completely unscrupulous, lacking the slightest bit of decency or shame.

Unfazed, Teresa retorted, “And why not? She’s my daughter, born after a tough journey that nearly took me to the grave. Should I defend you instead?”