From Rags to Riches: The Discarded Wife's Revenge

The Sister-in-law Cruelty

Chapter 2

Ethel woke up to her phone buzzing insistently on the nightstand. She fumbled for it in the pre-dawn darkness, squinting at the screen.

Victoria: I need you to come over. Now.

It was 6:47 AM.

Beside her, Morris didn't stir. He'd come home past midnight, reeking of expensive perfume that wasn't hers, and had gone straight to his study. She'd heard him finally come to bed around 3 AM, collapsing on his side of the mattress without a word.

Ethel's fingers hovered over the keyboard. She wanted to ask why, or if it could wait until a reasonable hour, but she already knew better.

Ethel: I'll be there in 30 minutes.

Victoria: Make it 20 and bring coffee. A proper latte, not that instant garbage you drink.

Ethel closed her eyes and took a breath. Victoria lived in a penthouse apartment downtown which was a "graduation gift" from Helen when she'd finished her art history degree three years ago. The same degree she'd never used, unless posting heavily filtered photos on i********: counted as art curation.

The drive alone would take twenty-five minutes.

She slipped out of bed and threw on yoga pants and an oversized sweater—her usual uniform. In the bathroom mirror, she looked like a ghost. When was the last time she'd bought herself new clothes? She couldn't remember. Morris controlled their bank accounts, and every time she asked for money, he made her feel like a burden.

"What do you need money for? You don't work. You don't go anywhere. The household account should be more than enough."

The household account that paid for his mother's weekly flowers, Victoria's endless demands, the expensive groceries they required but never ate. By the time Ethel bought necessities, there was nothing left for her.

She brushed her teeth with toothpaste she'd watered down to make it last longer and headed downstairs.

The coffee shop near Victoria's apartment had a drive-through so she ordered a large vanilla latte with extra foam and watched her carefully saved emergency cash dwindle. She'd been saving those bills for months, hiding them in an old tampon box under the bathroom sink where Morris would never look.

Twenty-seven dollars left now. That was supposed to last her until... well, until she could save more somehow.

She arrived at Victoria's building and texted from the lobby.

Ethel: I'm here.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Finally, her phone buzzed.

Victoria: Come up. You know the code.

Ethel rode the elevator to the penthouse, the latte growing lukewarm in her hands. She punched in the code and let herself in.

Ethel had helped Victoria move in, had spent three days unpacking boxes and arranging furniture exactly how her sister-in-law wanted. Victoria had ordered pizza for herself and her friends who'd "helped" by sitting around drinking wine. Ethel hadn't gotten so much as a thank you.

"ETHEL!" Victoria's voice shrieked from somewhere in the back. "Finally! What took you so long?"

"I'm sorry, I..."

"I don't want excuses. Get back here!"

Ethel found Victoria in her bedroom, standing in front of a closet that looked like a boutique had exploded. Clothes covered every surface—the bed, the chairs, the floor. Designer labels Ethel recognized from magazines.

Victoria herself stood in silk pajamas, her hair in a messy bun, a face mask smeared across her features.

"It's about time." Victoria snatched the latte from Ethel's hands without a word of thanks and took a sip. Her face immediately contorted. "This is cold! Are you kidding me right now?"

"I got here as fast as I could..."

"Whatever. I don't have time for your incompetence." Victoria waved a dismissive hand. "I need you to iron all of these." She gestured at the mountain of clothes. "I'm going to the Hamptons this weekend with the girls, and I can't show up with wrinkled clothes."

Ethel stared at the sheer volume of fabric. There had to be at least fifty pieces. "All of them?"

"Do you see me pointing at specific items? Yes, all of them! God, do I have to spell everything out for you?"

"Victoria, I... I have to get home. Your mother is coming for lunch, and I need to prepare..."

"So? Mother can wait. I need this done now." Victoria's eyes narrowed. "Unless you want me to call Morris and tell him you refused to help me?"

The threat hung in the air as Ethel's stomach twisted. The last time Victoria had complained to Morris about her, he'd cut her household allowance by half for a month. She'd had to water down the milk and buy the cheapest cuts of meat. Helen had complained endlessly about the "decline in quality."

"I'll do it," Ethel said quietly.

"Obviously." Victoria flopped onto the only clear corner of her bed and pulled out her phone. "The iron and board are in the guest room. And be careful some of these are delicate. If you ruin anything, you're paying for it."

With what money? Ethel wanted to scream. But she just nodded and started gathering armfuls of expensive fabric.

Ethel's back ached from bending over the ironing board. Her hands were sore. She hadn't eaten breakfast, and her stomach growled angrily.

Victoria, meanwhile, had migrated to the living room where she video-called her friends, laughing loudly about their weekend plans.

"No, Tyler won't be there, thank God," she was saying. "I'm so over him. He drives a BMW. A BMW! Like, hello, are we in 2015? If you're not in a Mercedes or better, don't even talk to me."

Her friends shrieked with laughter.

"ETHEL!" Victoria's voice made her jump. "I'm hungry, make me something."

Ethel set down the iron. "What would you like?"

"I don't know. Surprise me but nothing heavy because I have a beach body to maintain." Victoria patted her flat stomach. "Not that you'd understand."

The comment stung. Ethel had lost fifteen pounds since the wedding from stress, skipped meals, the constant anxiety of never being enough. But apparently, she was still too fat in Victoria's eyes.

In the kitchen, Ethel found expensive ingredients she'd never be able to afford. Fresh salmon, organic vegetables, imported cheeses. She made an elaborate salad with pan-seared salmon, exactly the kind of thing Victoria liked to photograph for i********:.

She plated it beautifully and brought it to Victoria, who was now painting her nails a shade of pink called "Millionaire's Daughter."

Victoria looked at the plate and wrinkled her nose. "What is this?"

"It's... salmon salad. I thought..."

"I said I wanted to be surprised, not poisoned. This looks gross." She pushed the plate away without even tasting it. "Just make me a smoothie. There's stuff in the fridge."

Ethel stood there holding the plate she'd spent twenty minutes preparing. "Victoria..."

"A smoothie. Are you deaf?"

Swallowing her frustration, Ethel returned to the kitchen and minutes later she was out with it.

Victoria took one sip and set it down. "This is too thick. I can't drink this."

Ethel's hands clenched into fists. "Would you like me to add more almond milk?"

"Ugh, no. I'm not even hungry anymore." Victoria went back to her phone. "You killed my appetite with that disgusting salad."

Two hours later, Ethel finally finished ironing. Every piece was perfect, crisp and wrinkle-free. Her arms trembled from exhaustion.

"I'm done," she said quietly.

Victoria barely looked up from her phone. "Finally. Hang them in my closet oganized by color and type. Dresses with dresses, shirts with shirts. You know, like a normal person would."

It took another forty-five minutes to organize everything to Victoria's standards. By the time Ethel was finished, it was past noon. Helen would be at the house already, probably furious.

"I need to go," Ethel said, her voice hoarse.

"Wait." Victoria stood up and stretched languidly. "I need you to drive me to the mall. I have to pick up a bag I ordered."

"Victoria, please, I really need to get home..."

"It'll take like thirty minutes. Stop being so dramatic."

It took two hours.

Two hours of following Victoria through department stores while she tried on clothes she didn't need and complained about everything. Two hours of carrying shopping bags while Victoria walked ahead, not offering to help. Two hours of watching her sister-in-law drop thousands of dollars on items she'd probably wear once, while Ethel wore the same five outfits on rotation.

At one store, a saleswoman approached them. "Can I help you ladies find anything?"

Victoria smiled brightly. "Yes! I'm looking for a clutch to match this dress." She held up a photo on her phone.

The saleswoman's eyes lit up. "Oh, that's gorgeous! Let me show you some options." Then she glanced at Ethel, still holding Victoria's bags. "And for your... assistant? We have some lovely pieces on sale in the back."

Ethel's cheeks burned as Victoria laughed.

"Oh, she's not my assistant. She's my sister-in-law." Victoria said it the way someone might say "unfortunate rash." "Though honestly, sometimes I forget the difference."

The saleswoman looked mortified but Victoria just kept shopping.

When they finally left the mall, Victoria's car trunk was full of shopping bags with designer logos, boxes tied with silk ribbons, tissue paper peeking out of everything.

"Oh!" Victoria said as they pulled up to her building. "I almost forgot. Mother wanted me to give you this." She pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her purse. "It's a list of things she needs you to pick up for the dinner party next Friday."

"Victoria, this is... this is a lot." Ethel said as she unfolded the paper.

"So? You don't work. You have time." Victoria gathered her bags and walked away, her designer bags swinging, her new bracelet catching the light.

Ethel sat in her car in the parking lot and stared at her own empty wrists and her chipped nails and worn sweater. At the reflection of a woman who barely recognized herself anymore.

Her phone buzzed.

Morris: Where are you? Mother is here and there's no lunch prepared. This is embarrassing.

No "are you okay." No "is everything alright." Just accusation and disappointment.

Ethel's hands shook as she typed back.

Ethel: I'm so sorry. Victoria needed help with something. I'm on my way home now.

Morris: Victoria needed help so you abandoned your responsibilities? This is exactly what Mother talks about. You have no sense of priority.

Morris: Don't bother coming home yet. I'm taking Mother out to lunch. Since my WIFE can't be bothered to fulfill her basic duties.

The words pierced her heart before she drove home in silence, her stomach empty, her body exhausted, her soul a little more hollow than it had been that morning.

When she got there, the house was empty much to her dismay. She dragged herself to the kitchen and lit the stove but she fell asleep minutes later while thick black smoke filled the kitchen.