I leaned closely toward my husband and whispered his name.
“Brandon,” I murmured.
He did not look at his mother.
He kept his eyes glued directly on Holly.
“I told her to give Mom the little red box if this exact thing happened again,” Brandon said in a flat tone.
I turned my head toward him in total surprise.
“What little red box?”
“The velvet one tucked inside her overnight bag,” Brandon replied quietly.
I stared at him, my mind racing to connect the dots.
“Did you actually plan this whole scene out?”
His answer was immediate and firm.
“No, I did not plan it,” Brandon said. “I prepared for it.”
In that heavy moment, I realized Brandon had completely abandoned the foolish dream that his mother would somehow become a loving grandmother just because it was Christmas.
He had watched the exact same cruel patterns that I had endured for years.
More importantly, he was determined that Holly would never spend another holiday depending on adults to save her from being pushed to the side.
