The fact that Sarah — Sarah — her measured, thoughtful, careful Sarah — had been moaning about being better than her mother was enough to make Linda want to rewrite her will.
Not out of anger, exactly.
Out of... what? Offense?Competitive irritation?
The bizarre, taboo-adjacent indignation of a woman who was simultaneously a mother, a lover, and apparently a benchmark?
Should she be mad at Peter?
She'd asked herself that question a thousand times since he had first pulled their whole family into this taboo mother-daughters orbit. Should she be furious at him for corrupting her daughters? For turning her home into something that would give a family therapist a stroke?
For being so impossibly, devastatingly, demonically beautiful and tempting that no woman in his orbit could resist him — including, most damningly, his ownmother?
