At My Sister’s $5 Million Wedding, My Father Poured Wine Down My Dress and Called Me a Pathetic Spinster on the Microphone. I Made One Phone Call
My father turned to me, and the arrogance was gone from his face, and in its place was the naked, fawning hope of a man who has just realized he insulted the most powerful person he will ever meet.
“Josephine — my sweet girl.
You should have told us.
If we’d known you were married to Mr.
Prescott, we never would have—”
“Treated me like garbage?” I finished for him, keeping my voice even.
“That’s precisely why I didn’t tell you, Roderick.
I wanted to see who you were when you believed I had no power.”