Chapter 2 - The Stolen Feast
To understand the absolute, volcanic rage burning inside my chest, you had to understand what it took to make that dinner.
Three days earlier, I had spent four hundred dollars on eighteen pounds of premium beef short ribs. I had spent hours preparing a complex homemade marinade. I had woken up at four in the morning to start the fourteen-hour slow-roast.
This wasn't just a casual family dinner. It was supposed to be a grand celebration of Garrison’s recent promotion at his logistics firm. Or, at least, that’s what I had been told.
Patricia had invited twenty of their extended relatives to our home. She insisted that I handle all the cooking, cleaning, and preparation while she entertained the arriving guests on the patio.
“You don't have children, Seraphina,” Patricia had sneered earlier that afternoon, sipping my expensive wine. “What else could possibly keep you busy?”
She completely ignored the fact that I worked sixty-hour weeks managing a portfolio of commercial real estate properties. She ignored the fact that my six-figure salary paid the mortgage, the utilities, the groceries, and Garrison’s lavish country club memberships. To Patricia, I was nothing more than the unpaid help who happened to share a bed with her precious son.
At five o'clock, I opened the oven to check the meat.
Only four pounds remained in the roasting pan. The other fourteen pounds had completely vanished.
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Through the kitchen window, I watched my sister-in-law, Lydia, happily loading heavy aluminum catering trays into the back of her SUV.
👉 I confronted my mother-in-law about the missing food, and her arrogant response shattered my marriage forever.
