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Back The Favorite Daughter
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Booklist
  4. Dedication
  5. Quote
  6. SUNDAY
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. MONDAY
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. TUESDAY
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. WEDNESDAY
  25. 16
  26. 17
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. 24
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. THURSDAY
  45. 35
  46. 36
  47. 37
  48. 38
  49. 39
  50. 40
  51. 41
  52. 42
  53. EPILOGUE
  54. DEAR READER LETTER
  55. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  56. READERS GROUP DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  57. Best Day Ever

And there they sit at a romantic table for two. Holding hands, across the table, talking about the future. I take a photo with my phone, to capture the moment, to fuel my rage. But I’m certain I won’t need it. When you’ve been married to someone for twenty years, when you’ve shared love and loss, and been there for him, well, this kind of betrayal leaves you with two options. I could fall apart, continue to pop pills and live in a blur of grief until David walks out, which appears to be soon given his texts. Or I can get revenge, find a place to use my talents and a way to vent this anger he’s stoked in my heart.

I open my phone and expand the picture of the two of them together. I zoom in on David, his lying face. This is another image burned into my memory forever. I know too many of us women have suffered these types of betrayal from our spouses. It’s unacceptable. I gave up my career, my life, to be the perfect mother, the perfect wife. And it has gotten me here: I’m married to a cheater.

It’s clear he doesn’t love me anymore. I shove my phone into my back pocket and make my way back to my car. It’s fine. I’m getting used to the idea. If he doesn’t love me, I don’t love him. I will move on soon.

But first, I’ll make sure the life he’s planning for himself, for them, will turn into the nightmare he deserves.

15

11:30 p.m.

I’m back home.

Alone.

I’ve been waiting for hours to confront Betsy with what Hoffman has told me, and to get David’s help. I know where David is, of course. I have plenty of photos of him from my little park adventure. But I have no idea where Betsy is. It’s as if she knows I’m tracking her and she has figured out some way to get around me. Or she has another secret texting channel or something. And just as often, she turns off her phone and I don’t receive a signal at all. Her dot on my app has disappeared tonight.

That’s my girl. She’s smarter than I realized.

With nothing to do but wait, I pull out an old photo album and have a fun walk down memory lane. Well, not fun, really. After my mom died in the tragic automobile accident I became an orphan. It was better than living another day with her, trust me. But I didn’t have anybody. No one could find my so-called father. I wouldn’t have wanted to live with him anyway. I needed a plan B or I’d be a ward of the state.