You Looked Down on Me Once, Now You Look Up. novel Chapter 241

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Patricia always thought her grandma was stuck in the past—like one of those scheming old ladies from some ancient palace drama. The kind who’d warm up to anyone who fed her sweet words, conveniently forgetting who actually gave her the cushy life she enjoyed now.

Before Patricia’s dad came along, the Martin family wasn’t totally broke, but they were far from rich. Two working parents, scraping by, until her dad—the eldest—used his grit and brains to drag everyone up a notch. Somewhere along the way, Grandma forgot where they started.

When her parents were young, they built their business together—both sharp, ambitious, and totally uninterested in playing those old games of flattering the elders. Especially Patricia’s mom, who never bothered with fake niceties.

Grandma hated that. She always saw her daughter-in-law as too proud, too distant, never showing her the proper respect. She never cared for her. Instead, Grandma poured all her affection on people like Tina—anyone who could flatter her, even if it was all just empty words.

As a kid, Patricia would catch Grandma slipping money to the Emersons—all from her dad’s wallet, of course. When Patricia asked about it, her dad just shrugged. “Once you give something away, it’s not yours anymore. Let her spend it how she wants. As long as I know I did right, that’s enough.”

But the truth is, that old saying still holds up: poverty breeds scheming, wealth breeds kindness.

So when Grandma found out Ruby was paralyzed, the hate in her eyes was almost too much to look at, burning bright and wild, like the sunset bleeding across the sky.

She wanted Patricia gone. She wanted Joe gone, too.

Ruby was her favorite—the one she spoiled, the one who could do no wrong.

“Was it you?” Grandma’s voice shook with anger. “I’m asking you, Patricia, was it you?”

“How could you do such a thing?” she pressed, voice rising. “She’s your sister.”

Patricia scoffed, bitter and cold. “Isn’t that something? When you came after me, did you ever remember I was your granddaughter? Still trying to play the saint at your age?”

Grandma’s face twisted with fury. “Your parents are dead, and they must have taken your manners with them! Who taught you to speak to your elders like this?”

She’d never liked Patricia—not even a little. Patricia was too much like her mom: proud, untouchable, always polite on the surface but never letting anyone get close. Even when she was a little kid, you could see that stubbornness. It only got worse as she grew.