Page 41 of The Nanny Contract
She flipped the folder open and pulled out a shiny, glossy photo before sliding it over to Robert with impeccable ease.
“Here’s Robert,” she continued, “visibly intoxicated, parking your car at a less-than-reputable street corner to purchase something in a little baggie. And here you are…,” she said, sliding out another photo, “snorting it right off your dashboard. Charming.”
Robert’s face suddenly went pale. “This is outrageous! You can’t?—”
“I already have,” Betsy replied, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied expression. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but these aren’t simply allegations. These are stone cold facts, Robert. And I haven’t even gotten around to the financial irregularities.”
Panic flickered in Helen’s eyes as her façade began to crack. “What are you talking about?”
Betsy opened the folder again and pulled out yet another glossy photo, this time sliding it across the table to Helen. Even from where I was sitting on the sidelines, I could see that the numbers in the rows didn’t add up.
“Dear Helen,” Betsy said, “you’ve been thoroughly creative with your bookkeeping. Offshore accounts, income that’s gone undeclared, and my personal favorite: a fake charity. ‘Helen’s Helping Hands.’ Absolutely adorable name, by the way.”
Helen looked completely stunned. “Betsy, you cannot?—”
Betsy raised one hand, cutting off Helen with regal authority. “And before you claim to be completely ignorant, Helen, let me remind you that tax fraud isn’t exactly a slap-on-the-wrist kind of offense—that should come as no surprise. Judges frown on this sort of thing—especially in custody cases.”
Silence filled the room, almost deafening. Logan stood beside his mother, his arms still crossed and his expression ice cold. I could feel his fury radiating, but he didn’t speak.
This was Betsy’s show.
Betsy’s voice was almost a low purr. “I’m more than willing to give the courts complete and total transparency. You said yourself that Henry deserves to live in a stable home, not one built on lies and fabrications. I suggest you think very, very carefully about your next move.”
Helen gripped the edge of her chair, her hands shaking. “This… this is blackmail, Betsy.”
Betsy’s satisfied smile didn’t fall. “Oh Helen, blackmail is such a harsh word. I prefer to think of it as shining a light.”
Robert looked as if he might erupt, but Helen grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his sleeve.
She glared at Betsy, eyeing her as if she hated her. “You’re awful.”
Besty stared back, unmoving. “I’d think very carefully about testing me again. I’d hate to be forced to release what I have to the proper channels. Think about Robert’s career at the law firm. The fallout would be absolutely… catastrophic.”
Defiance finally drained from Robert’s face as he slumped back in his chair, looking at the folder in front of him like it was a ticking bomb. His mouth opened, but nothing came out—his earlier bravado had completely vanished.
Helen forced a smile and said, “Well, I suppose we’ll… reconsider our approach. But just for Henry’s sake, of course.”
“Of course,” Betsy said with sweet southern charm, as if they’d just agreed to a perfectly civil matter. “After all, Henry’s well-being is what we’re all focused on, right?”
Betsy’s gaze was as sharp as a blade, daring the Mercers to challenge her.
Helen grabbed her husband with trembling hands.
“We’ll take our leave now,” she said, her voice brittle.
“Wonderful,” Betsy chirped. “And feel free to let me know if you need any further clarification on where you stand. I’d be happy to oblige, any time.”
Helen’s face turned completely red as she pulled her husband toward the door, turning to walk away. They wandered out of the room, their backs toward us, stiff. Finally, the sound of the door closing behind them echoed off the walls.
I glanced at Betsy who sat back in her chair casually, as if she hadn’t just dismantled the Mercers’ plans with a few carefully chosen, devastating sentences.
Logan leaned against the mantle, exhaling slowly. I could sense the frustration leaving the room.
“I think that’s the last we’ll hear from them,” he said. “They’d be stupid to push their luck.”
Betsy smoothed the hem of her jacket. “Oh, stupidity is a common affliction. I wouldn’t count them out just yet—personally. They’re like a bad odor lingering in an otherwise pristine room.”
Betsy certainly had a way with words.