“You make more than I do. Why shouldn’t you pay more?”
I used to think that was selfish.
Eventually, I realized it was something worse.
It was a philosophy.
Benedict believed my income belonged to both of us, while his income belonged to him.
The breaking point came on his mother Gertrude’s sixtieth birthday.
I suggested a modest family restaurant in La Jolla. Nothing extravagant. Good food, a small gathering, and a reasonable bill.
Gertrude apparently had other plans.
When I arrived after work, exhausted and still carrying my laptop bag, I opened the door to a private dining room at an exclusive Del Mar seafood steakhouse.
There were nearly thirty people inside.
Imported oysters.
Wagyu beef.
Expensive champagne.
Multiple courses.
I stood there in disbelief.
Then Gertrude raised her glass.
“Everyone, Claire is here!”
The room applauded.
She smiled proudly.
“My wealthy daughter-in-law is paying for everything tonight.”
