Nancy Pearce was my best friend. We had been friends for almost two decades. We have children about the same age. After she went through a bad break-up, she would cry on my shoulder about being a single mom and ask me to help her babysit or lend her money. I helped her find a job. Then I found out that while she was asking me to babysit, she was fucking my husband. I watched her daughter for a weekend while she went away with my husband. She was asking me to borrow money at the same time she was betraying me. She stabbed me to my face and in my back. She is truly shameless and a special kind of awful. I was diagnosed with an incurable illness right before I think she started seeing my husband. The illness caused me to be tired and to gain weight. I was spending a lot of time in bed with pain. I lost my sex drive. Nancy Pearce knew all this. I confided in her about problems in my relationship. She took advantage of me in my lowest moment. She now works as an administrative assistant for my husband. Ironically, he is a family court lawyer. How they think they can fairly represent families is beyond me if they think this sort of behavior is appropriate in one’s personal life. Nancy Pearce also calls herself an “artist,” with a line of “feminist” bronze objects. I don’t see how it is feminist to betray your best friend, a woman who was like a sister to you. I don’t see how that is a good example to set for your daughter. She is getting away with it, while I lost everything. My heart is broken, my home is broken. She spends time with my sons as though nothing is wrong. I don’t know what else I have to lose. Anyone who works with Nancy Pearce or buys her design (which is sold at stores including Echo Park Craft Fair, Heath Ceramics, Dream Collective and Commune) is supporting the worst thing that ever happened to me.