I scrutinised the surroundings. “So that is where that basic bitch lived.” I thought. To be honest, I had a shock initially when my PI told me my son was dating her and how obsessed he seemed to be. I mean, not to be condescending but, I saw absolutely no merit, no redeeming quality in her. She was just tacky, well, basic.
I couldn’t be more glad my son was done with her. But it was absurd he left such a mess that I had to clear up. And it seemed she wasn’t giving up.
Time to give her what she deserves.
I looked around the apartment. Tacky, like she is. So much for being internet famous. I winced in distaste.
“Hello, I’ve been expecting you, Ro…”
“Per-lease!” I interrupted her. “I doubt we’re on first name basis. Mind your manners, won’t you?” I almost recoiled in horror. Mannerism. It was that one essential quality someone befitting of polite society should possess. And I doubt she had any. Not surprising, right?
“Anyway…” I shot a condescending eye at her, “so you are the woman whom bewitched my son…” I could feel she was being intimidated. She had none of the confident stance she had when she opened the door. Great. That made things easy for me.
“I tell you what,” I looked at her squarely in the face, “you are NEVER ever to contact my son again. Do you hear?”
“But…” She stammered. It was working. To be honest, I found it to be beneath me to even meet her. But it seemed it was more effective that way. People like her needed to be put in their place. And the only thing that stopped me from shredding her reputation into pieces was perhaps she was not worth the time. It was not as if she had any in my society to begin with.
“No buts.” I cut her off. “If it is something I don’t recognise, then it is invalid.”
I gazed at her coldly, “I met more than a fair share of girls like you. Shameless gold diggers. Why won’t you just admit you’re after my son’s money?” I sneered. “I looked through your Simstagram. Oh horror! Tell me what are you trying to achieve by posting so many pictures of my apartment?”
I could she was struggling to answer that. Just what I wanted. Putting people into the rightful places. I had years of experience doing that.
“Just you know, I will NEVER accept someone like you into the family.”
“Anyway…” I punched a few digits on my phone. “I asked my accountant to wire a million to you. On my son’s account. That’s more than you deserve to be honest. But whatever… Take the money, and be gone for good.”
“Just a last friendly reminder. Don’t you dream of selling your story to the tabloids or else…” I hissed, “I make sure you’ll be left with nothing except a ruined reputation.”
“Just try, if you dare!”
With that, I strode out of the apartment.
I knew it might not be the best decision. But for the prestige of the family, I had no choice.