Taking a deep breath, I clicked on my mom’s contact in my video call app, and the familiar ringing tone began to echo through the room. My hands trembled, and I had to clench them into fists to steady myself. Each ring felt like a countdown.
When the call connected, my mother’s face appeared on the screen, perfectly composed as always. Her blonde hair was styled impeccably, and her gray eyes sparkled with a warmth that I knew would quickly transform into disappointment in approximately two minutes, after she heard what I had to say.
“Lavinia, darling! It’s so good to see you. How are you?” she asked, her voice full of genuine affection that took me by surprise.
“Hi, Mom. I’m good. How are you guys?” I replied, forcing a smile, though my nerves were getting the better of me.
I glanced at the familiar setting behind them—the elegant living room of our family home in Cresden. The soft glow of the crystal chandelier illuminated the room, showcasing carefully arranged furniture, and the grand piano that my mother insisted on keeping polished, even though no one played it. They seemed to be in the middle of one of my mother’s forcedfamily bondingactivities—perhaps a game of chess that she always insisted my father play with her to keep his mind sharp.
Before I could say more, my father’s stern face filled the screen, his neatly trimmed dark brown hair now peppered with gray, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto mine with that all-too-familiar look of disapproval. He wore a tailored suit, as always.
“Lavinia, when are you going to stop this childish rebellion and come home?” My father’s voice was sharp, cutting through the small talk with the precision of a blade. His brows furrowed, and he set his jaw in thatstern, unyielding way that always made me feel like a child being scolded. My mother, sitting beside him on the pristine white sofa, shot him a look of thinly veiled irritation as she gently placed a manicured hand on his arm; a silent plea for restraint.
“Jonathan, please,” she said, her tone a careful blend of frustration and concern. Her eyes softened as they turned back to me, though the tension in her posture betrayed her own anxiety. “Let’s hear what Lavinia has to say.”
My father’s mouth tightened into a hard line, but he gave a curt nod as he leaned back, his arms crossing over his chest in a defensive posture. My mother’s fingers lingered on his arm for a moment longer, a subtle attempt to soothe the situation, before she turned her full attention back to me, her gaze expectant but not unkind.
I tried to muster a smile, but it felt forced under the weight of my father’s bored, angry expression. His eyes had already glazed over with impatience, and the stern set of his mouth made my heart sink further. “It’s been a while. I just wanted to check in with you.”
My mother leaned forward, her eyes showing a glimmer of interest despite the tension in the room. She tucked a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear, a soft smile playing on her lips as she tried to bridge the gap. “How have you been, dear? How’s life in that little town treating you?”
I hesitated, feeling the weight of the real reason for my call pressing down on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to dive into it just yet. I was stalling, and I knew it. “It’s been really good, actually,” I began, trying to keep my tone light. “I’ve made new friends, and the whole town is buzzing with excitement for the upcoming Halloween festival. It’s such a beautiful place.”
“That sounds lovely, darling,” my mother said, her voice softening as she tried to be supportive. “It’s good that you’re making friends.”
I smiled, feeling a small wave of relief. “And there’s this amazing coffee shop, Harvest Moon. Mom, you have to try their coffee someday—it’s even better than the one in Cresden.”
My mother’s smile remained, though it was tinged with scepticism. “Better than Cresden’s? That’s hard to believe,” she said. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying your time there, darling.” She paused, her expression softening, “It’s good that you’re making the most of your trip.”
My mother’s gentle tone was a lifeline in the storm of my father’s harshness, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. I knew I’d hurt her after our last call, where I had snapped and unloaded all my frustrations, and the memory of that argument still weighed on me, making this moment even more difficult.
“Mom,” I began, my voice softer, “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. I know the last time we talked . . . it wasn’t easy.”
She offered a small, understanding smile. “It’s alright, Vinnie. We both needed time to collect ourselves and think things through. I’m just happy you set up this video chat today. It means a lot to me.”
Her words gave me a bit of comfort, and I nodded, though my nerves were still bubbling beneath the surface. “I appreciate that, Mom.”
“You’ve always been strong-willed. It’s one of the things I admire about you, even if it makes things difficult sometimes.”
“Enough with the small talk, Lavinia,” my father snapped, cutting through the moment with as much subtlety as a machete. His tone was sharp, and his impatience stung. “Get to the point. Why did you really call?”
I flinched at his words, my smile faltering as the pressure mounted. This was it—time toface the music.
“Fine. I wanted to let you both know that I’ve decided to open an art gallery here. I’m staying in Hallow’s End for good.” I blurted it all in one go, wanting to get it over with.
There was a moment of stunned silence, and my father’s face turned a deep shade of red, his jaw clenched so tightly that I could see the muscles twitch. My mother’s eyes widened in shock, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.
“You can’t be serious,” my father finally spat out, his voice shaking with barely contained fury. “An art gallery? In that nowhere town? How could you throw away your future like this?”
My mother quickly lowered her hand, trying to intervene, her voice softer, though trembling with anxiety. “Jonathan, let’s just calm down for a moment.” She turned to me, her tone pleading. “Lavinia, are you sure this is what you want? Have you thought this through?”
“Yes, Mom,” I replied, my voice trembling but firm. “I’ve thought about it a lot. This is what I want.”
My father’s fury only grew, and he leaned closer to the camera, his eyes blazing with anger. “You’re making a colossal mistake, Lavinia! I’ve already planned for you to work with me, to learn the business from the ground up. Do you have any idea the effort that’s gone into this? The partnership agreement with Sterling Enterprises, the plan for you and Sebastian to work together—all of it was done with your future in mind. The idea was for you to eventually merge our companies, to build something bigger and better! And now, you’re throwing it all away for some . . . childishdream?”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I held them back. “I understand, Dad, but—"
“You understand nothing!” he bellowed, slamming his fist down on the desk, making the camera shake. “Do you think thishobbyof yours will sustain you? You’ll be on your own, Lavinia! No more financial support,no more connections! I give it a few months before you’re crawling back, begging for help.”
