Page 134 of Golden Ruin

Marla shakes her head. “Wow. I’m not sure I could’ve endured that.”

“It was like… there was always someone else in our relationship.”

A long pause adds to the drama, and I hate that I can already feel how Marla’s followers will eat this up. If I didn’t know the truth, I’d probably fall for Tiffany’s bullshit too.

“Lexi always wanted his attention, and she always knew how to get it.”

“You mean through their son, Jaxon?”

My stomach twists hearing Marla use my son’s name, bringing the most innocent party in all this to the forefront of the unwarranted drama.

Tiffany wipes her eyes, nodding. “Whether intentional or not, Jax was the easiest way back into Sterling’s life. I think this happens more often than we realize, women using children as emotional leverage.”

Marla crosses her legging-clad legs as she locks in. “Tell me the circumstances surrounding her pregnancy. Did they separate before or after their son was born?”

“Before,” Tiffany answers. “But the timing was incredibly convenient.”

“How so?” Marla cocks her head with the question.

“Everyone knew the Golden boys were going all the way. Things between Lexi and Sterling had gotten rocky, and it’s not unheard of for a woman to try to stay in a man’s life by… you know.”

Marla arches a brow, feigning sympathy while secretly eating this shit up. “By… trapping him? That’s what you think happened? Because that’s a hell of an accusation.”

“All I can say is that I’ve seen Sterling’s bank accounts, and I’ve seen how much he shells out in child support.”

With that, Marla sits back, and I’m… winded, feeling my head spin from the lies, the accusations, how this bitch is weaponizing my child. My life.

Swiping a tear from my eye, I glance back to make sure Jax is still watching his show. He giggles at something on the screen, in his own world as mine silently falls apart. I can’t believe things have gone this far, gotten this ugly.

My finger hovers over the screen, knowing I should turn this off, stop listening before it pushes me over the edge, but I can’t. Something inside me needs to hear the rest. Even if only to know what I’ll be up against now that this has aired, to know how the world will see me after this.

“So, you think this is all about money? Like, it’s basically an elaborate gold-digging scheme?”

“I didn’t say that,” Tiffany says, pausing to choose her words. “I’m saying that after being with Sterling, after knowing him most of her life, it’s possible Lexi couldn’t comprehend having to let him go. Even though that’s what he wanted. I think, early on, she envisioned a future with a pro football player–the money, the house, the cars, traveling the world–and when things started getting shaky, she panicked.”

Marla laughs a little, glancing at her notecards. “At the risk of calling you out, that… kind of sounds like you’re calling her a gold-digger, girl.”

Tiffany smiles a little. “Your words, not mine.”

Marla shakes her head again. “Damn. This is deeper than I thought.”

“Much deeper,” Tiffany adds. “You have no idea how hard this has been. Seeing her living in the house Sterling and I bought together, driving his truck. It’s like seeing the person who’s caused you the most pain playing dress-up, walking in your shoes, living the life that was supposed to be yours.”

“You mean the financial benefit?”

Tiffany shakes her head. “Of course not. I’ve been very adamant about building my own empire independent of that relationship.”

“Then, if you’re not talking about money, what do you mean?”

Tiffany does that thing again. The one where she takes a dramatic pause to wipe her eyes, playing the victim, playing on the audience’s emotions.

“Marla, you have no idea how much it killed me seeing those photos yesterday. From the outside looking in, it was just a touch here and there, him kissing her forehead. But when I saw them? They felt… intimate. They felt like us in the not so distant past. Now, it’s like he just… forgot me.”

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, making me more aware of the leather seat against my skin, the scent of the air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

Sterling’s truck.

Not mine.