"Don’t you know what Natalie told him?"
I Got My Six-Year-Old Granddaughter’s Drawing Tattooed on My Arm — Then My Husband Demanded I Have It Removed
My mouth went dry.
“Natalie?
What does she have to do with my tattoo?”
Dean lowered his voice.
“She told Rob she was finally ready to leave her husband.”
I pressed my hand against the wall.
“Why would Rob care?”
Dean went silent again, and that silence answered more than words could.
“No,” I whispered.
“Rob wouldn’t.”
“I saw the messages, Betty.
He’s been looking for a reason to blame you for your marriage falling apart.
The tattoo gave him one.”
Before I could respond, I heard the front door open.
Rob walked in and froze when he saw the phone in my hand.
“Who are you talking to?”
“Dean.”
The color drained from his face.
“Hang up.”
“Why?
What did Natalie tell you?”
Rob crossed the room and reached for my phone, but I pulled it away.
Then a message from Dean appeared on the screen.
I opened it.
It was a screenshot of a conversation between Rob and Natalie.
The final message had been sent the night before I got my tattoo.
Natalie had written, “If you really want us to be together, prove Betty means nothing to you.”
Rob stared at the screen, then at me.
“That isn’t what it looks like.”
My phone buzzed again.
Dean had sent one more screenshot—and this time, the message from Rob mentioned my granddaughter.
I opened the second screenshot before Rob could reach me.
Rob’s message read, “Betty worships that child.
I’ll make the tattoo the issue.
If she removes it, I’ll know I can still make her choose me over her family.”
I lifted my eyes.
“You used Lily?”
“It was a private message.”
“You used my granddaughter to test whether you could control me.”
Rob pointed at the phone.
“Dean had no right to send that.”
“So it’s real?”
He turned away and dragged both hands over his face.
“It was one stupid conversation.”
“One conversation with a woman who asked you to prove I meant nothing.”
“She was upset.”
“And you comforted her by humiliating your wife?”
Rob’s jaw tightened.
“You’re twisting it.”
I put the call on speaker.
“Dean, are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“How long has this been going on?”
Rob grabbed for the phone again.
“End the call, Betty.”
Dean’s voice filled the kitchen.
