Chapter 3
"Mom?" Skylar's voice was distant, distracted. "I'm busy. Raven's taking me shopping for school clothes."
"Sky, we need to talk—"
"About what? Dad won the lottery. He wants a divorce. I chose him. End of story."
End of story? This was my daughter, the little girl I'd rocked to sleep every night, and she was talking to me like I was some annoying stranger.
"It's not that simple—"
"Isn't it?" She laughed, but it was cold and mean. "Look, Mom, I'm tired of pretending our family was something it wasn't."
"What do you mean?"
"Our family lived in a trailer park. Our family made me lie to my friends about where I came from. That's not a family, Mom. That's just... surviving."
Each word felt like a slap across my face.
"We did our best with what we had—"
"Your best wasn't good enough!" Her voice cracked with anger. "Do you know what it's like being called trailer trash? Having kids laugh when they drive by our neighborhood?"
I did know. Every day at Walmart, I felt those looks, those whispered comments. But I thought our love was enough to get us through anything.
"Skylar, money was tight, but we had each other—"
"Had each other? I spent my whole life embarrassed! Now Dad can give me a real life. A normal life."
"So you were ashamed of me?"
Silence stretched between us like a chasm.
"I have to go," she finally said. "Raven's waiting."
"When will I see you?"
"I don't know. I need time to... adjust."
The line went dead. She'd hung up on me.
Monday morning came too soon. Bills don't stop just because your life explodes, so I dragged myself back to Walmart, praying I could get through the day without falling apart.
"Brandi! Oh my God, is it true?" Susan from the pharmacy grabbed my arm the second I walked through the employee entrance. "Colton really won the lottery and left you?"
Everyone knows. Of course they did. I was probably the hottest gossip topic in three counties.
"It's... complicated."
"But he's with that young blonde? Raven? My cousin works at the jewelry store downtown—she said he bought her a ring worth more than my car!"
I felt my face burning. Everyone was staring now, knowing I was the woman whose husband had bought another woman a ring while I scanned groceries for minimum wage.
All day, I felt eyes on me. Customers whispering, coworkers shooting me pitying glances. Some looked genuinely sorry for me, but others seemed almost excited by my misfortune, like my pain was entertainment.
During my lunch break, Derek, the store manager, approached with that look I'd seen before—the one that meant bad news was coming.
"We need to talk," he said.
In the break room, Derek sat across from me with his hands folded. "Look, Brandi, this situation is becoming a distraction. Customers are asking questions, employees are gossiping. Some people are even saying maybe you're just playing the victim for sympathy."
Playing the victim? My life had been destroyed in public, and they thought I was acting?
"Derek, I've worked here eight years. I've never missed shifts, never caused problems. My personal issues have nothing to do with my job performance."
"I know, I know. But corporate is concerned about the optics. If this goes to court, gets more public attention... they don't want Walmart associated with messy divorce battles."
"So you're firing me?"
"Strongly encouraging unpaid leave. Until things settle down."
Unpaid leave. While I was broke, homeless, and barely surviving.
"How long?"
"A few weeks? Maybe a month? Until the media attention dies down."
"I need this job, Derek. I have a son to take care of."
"I'm sorry, Brandi. My hands are tied."
I walked out of that break room feeling like I'd been gutted. No job, no home, no savings. How was I supposed to take care of Aspen?
Back at Dolly's that evening, I slumped onto her couch and told her what had happened.
"They basically fired me," I said, fighting back tears.
"That's illegal! You could sue them!"
"With what money? What lawyer?"
Rock bottom. No job, no home, no savings, one kid who didn't want me, and one I could barely take care of.
My phone buzzed with a text from Skylar: "Dad says you're telling lies about him to people. Stop it or I won't talk to you anymore."
"That little—" Dolly started.
"Don't. She's still my daughter. She's just... confused."
"She's old enough to know right from wrong."
But maybe she was right. Maybe my best really wasn't good enough. Maybe she was better off without me dragging her down.
"Let her come to you when she's ready," Dolly said softly.
"What if she never is?"
"Then that says more about her than it does about you."
But I wasn't sure I believed that. Maybe I really had failed as a mother. Maybe Colton was right—maybe I was just holding everyone back.
That night, I stared at Dolly's ceiling, unable to sleep. In three days, I'd lost everything:
Husband: Gone.
Daughter: Gone.
Home: Gone.
Job: Gone.
I kept thinking about those lottery numbers. Colton had bought that ticket with money from our joint account—money that came from both our paychecks. Didn't that make it half mine, legally?
But lawyers cost money I didn't have. And even if I could prove it, would it matter? He'd already spent God knows how much on Raven's ring, probably blown through thousands more.
My phone lit up with a Facebook notification. Someone had tagged me in a photo from the barbecue—from before everything went to hell. I clicked on it and immediately regretted it.
The comments were brutal:
"Didn't her husband leave her already?"
"I heard she's homeless now lol"
"Should have seen this coming"
"Gold digger finally got what she deserved"
I deleted the tag and closed the app, but the damage was done. This is my life now. The town joke. The woman who thought winning the lottery would save her family, only to watch it destroy everything instead.
Now, I got a rich ex-husband, no family, and the crushing knowledge that the person I'd loved most had never really loved me back.
Tuesday morning at Dolly's felt like living in someone else's life. I woke up to find Aspen already at the kitchen table, quietly eating his Cheerios. Usually he'd be chattering about cartoons or asking me a million questions, but today he just stared at his bowl.
"Morning, baby," I said, my voice still hoarse from crying the night before.
"Morning, Mommy." He looked up at me with those big eyes that held way too much sadness for an eight-year-old. "Are we going to live here forever?"
Forever? I hoped not, but what was the alternative? No job, no money, nowhere else to go. Dolly said we could stay as long as needed, but her trailer was barely big enough for her, let alone three people.