New Year Homecoming: Kicked Out the Mistress

The message had barely been sent for three seconds before the group chat exploded.

My mom, Mary Sullivan, kicked things off with a string of question marks, and Dad's father, Grandpa Anton, had the same response.

Dad's mother, Grandma Alice, then texted, "Clary, are you home? What do you mean, new flame?"

Shortly after, Granddad Bernard wrote, "Derek Bennett, you'd better not have done anything to hurt my daughter, or I'm pulling my investment tomorrow!"

Dad was utterly confused as he replied, "I've been wronged! Completely and utterly wronged! Don't go throwing accusations around, sweetheart! What new flame? Like I'd ever dare! Your mother's been staring me down so hard, I'm surprised I'm still alive! I'm in a faculty meeting right now!"

I wrote back, "Come home and see for yourself!"

I was still looking down at my phone and replying when a rough, calloused hand shot out and snatched it right out of my grip.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

I reached for it on instinct.

The woman gripped my phone tightly, her face so close to mine that our noses were practically touching.

"Did you hear a single word I just said? You come in here, skip the chores, and immediately start slacking off on your phone! Kids these days are so lazy. They can't handle a hard day's work to save their lives.

"Let me tell you something. Since you took this gig, you'd better do a proper job. Otherwise, don't think for a second I won't report you to your agency. Got it?"

A humorless laugh escaped my lips.

In all my life, the only person who'd ever dared snatch my phone was Mom.

"Give it back."

I looked at her coolly, all the earlier amusement gone from my voice, replaced by a chilling undertone.

My grandparents had raised me to be humble and to treat everyone as an equal, so I'd never thought of myself as better than anyone else.

But that didn't mean I was just going to stand there and let a housekeeper walk all over me.

"Give it back? What if I don't?"

Not only did she not hand it over, but she also raised it higher above her head, her expression dripping with contempt.

"What are you going to do, call the police? Go crying to your supervisor? I'll have you know that Professor Bennett, the man of this house, thinks very highly of me. One word from me and you'll be out on your ear!"

"He thinks highly of you?"

I crossed my arms and looked at her with a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "What exactly does he think highly of? Your age, or the fact that you don't shower?"

Her expression shifted instantly, like I'd hit a nerve. Her face went red with fury.

"Watch your mouth, you little brat! You're just jealous that I've got it good and that I'm the lady of this house! Take a good look at yourself before you speak. You're dressed like a total bum, and you think you can talk back to me?"

I looked down at myself.

For the sake of comfort on the long ride over, I'd thrown on a gray fleece tracksuit. My hair was a mess from sleeping on the bus, and a few days in the sun had left me noticeably tanner than usual.

Without any makeup, I knew I looked rough.

But apparently, in this woman's eyes, that was all the proof she needed to assume that I was the cleaning lady.

"I'm Professor Bennett's daughter," I said.

Having wasted enough breath on her already, I decided to reveal my identity.

"That robe you're wearing belongs to my mother. Take it off and get out. Now."