Daniel folded his arms.
“Dealt with what?”
“Your mother’s obsession with appearing wealthier and more connected than we are.”
The Whitmores were comfortable, Charles explained, but nowhere near as wealthy as Linda liked others to believe.
He had built a successful accounting practice, and they owned a large Lake Forest home. But for years, Linda had cultivated the image of old money and elite connections.
She exaggerated friendships, inflated the value of their property, and treated charity invitations as social credentials.
When Daniel became engaged to me, she saw my family as another connection she could use.
At first, she truly believed I was simply a Bellamy’s employee.
Then, months before the engagement dinner, she learned through our wedding planner that Richard Hayes, owner of Bellamy Hospitality Group, was my father.
Instead of admitting she had misjudged me, she continued pretending she didn’t know.
Daniel stared at Charles.
“She knew?”
Charles nodded.
“Not everything. But she knew your father owned the restaurant group.”
A colder anger replaced my embarrassment.
Her insults had been cruel when I thought they came from ignorance.
Now they felt calculated.
“Why would she keep calling me a waitress?” I asked.
Charles looked uncomfortable.
“Because she liked the story. She told people Daniel had fallen in love with a working-class girl and that she was helping you adjust to his world. It made her sound generous.”
Daniel stood so fast his chair scraped the floor.
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were.”
Charles opened the folder.
Inside were emails, screenshots, and messages Linda had sent to friends, vendors, and charity contacts.
One email claimed Richard Hayes was considering investing in a luxury wellness club proposed by one of her friends.
He wasn’t.
Another suggested Bellamy’s would cater a charity gala at cost because of her “family relationship with ownership.”
Nobody had authorized that either.
