Before I had the chance to respond, Chloe called.
“Mom, please don’t shout.”
“What happened?”
“I got married.”
“To that man?”
“Yes. His name is Arthur.”
I demanded to know his age.
“Fifty-six.”
Chloe was only twenty-two.
I broke down.
I accused her of giving up her future and allowing a wealthy older man to purchase her devotion.
She didn’t fight back. She only asked me to wait until she returned home.
For an entire week, I pictured diamonds, luxury apartments, and a daughter who had mistaken wealth for love.
But when Chloe walked through the airport entrance, nothing looked the way I had imagined.
She wore no expensive jewelry and looked pale, exhausted, and much thinner.
Once we were home, I confronted her.
