Three weeks earlier, my son had announced his engagement to her. Robin was thirty-two, incredibly kind, highly successful, and painfully trusting toward the people he loved. Tabitha had entered his life like polished glass, looking beautiful and expensive, yet sharp enough to cut anyone who touched her carelessly.
She treated me perfectly whenever she actually knew who I was.
At dinner, she always called me Mrs. Harrington and endlessly praised the charitable foundation I had built after my husband passed away. She held my hand gently, asked sweet questions about my health, and insisted that she wanted a simple wedding because love mattered so much more than money.
However, our household staff told a completely different story behind her back.
“She calls us useless animals the second Mr. Harrington leaves the driveway,” Teresa, my house manager, whispered to me in confidence. “Just yesterday, she made Luis kneel on the cold floor to scrub a tiny footprint she made herself.”
Robin firmly refused to believe any of it.
“She is just under a lot of stress about the upcoming wedding,” he said defended her gently. “Please give her a fair chance to adjust.”
I understood his deep resistance to the truth. After losing his father when he was only sixteen, Robin had spent years trying to protect everyone around him. I did not want to choose a wife for him, but I desperately wanted him to choose his partner with his eyes wide open.
So I decided to give Tabitha one totally unguarded afternoon.
