Heat pricked the backs of my eyes. I blinked quickly.
Too much work. Vince was right. It wasn’t normally for someone to be told to eat.
My mother laughed lightly, reaching for her wine. “Honestly, Marco, you can’t believe everything these medical people say. They dramatize everything.”
Her fingers toyed with the stem of her glass. “Isn’t it interesting that every doctor suddenly has a problem whenever Madeline loses a little weight? I wish someone would be that concerned when I skip lunch.”
“It isn’t the same,” my father replied. “Our daughter fainted three times this year.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Stress related. She’s dramatic under pressure.”
“I didn’t faint because I’m dramatic,” I murmured.
“You certainly didn’t faint because you’re eating enough,” my father said quietly. “You look exhausted, sweetheart. Be honest with us, did something happen today?”
My mother reached for the bread basket, clearly uninterested in the answer. “Emotional theatrics. She probably had a disagreement at work.”
A disagreement.
If only it had been that small.
Vince’s face flashed behind my eyes. The cold way he’d said bored. The way he wouldn’t even touch me. The way my chest had felt like it was being crushed in slow motion.
I swallowed around the ache. “I’m fine,” I whispered.
My mother finally looked at me again. “Then fix your face. You look like you’ve been crying.”
The words landed so precisely I flinched before I could hide it.
She noticed.
“Oh, darling,” she crooned, “you’ve smudged your eyeliner. Are we having another one of your melancholy spells? You know how easily you slide into these moods.”
My throat tightened. “I wasn’t?—”
“Now she’s pouting,” she told my father, as if I weren’t sitting right there. “Every time we have dinner, she acts like we wounded her feelings before we even say a word. Honestly, I don’t know how to talk to her without her taking offense.”
A tremor ran through my chest. “I’m not taking offense.”
“You are. It’s written all over your face. The dramatics. The sulking. The shoulders rounded like you’re carrying the entire world. Sit up straight before you ruin your posture permanently.”
I forced my spine straighter, shoulders back.
She gave a satisfied little nod. “Better. You’re too young to look tired. It sets the wrong impression. Especially since we still haven’t secured a proper merger for you.”
My father’s jaw ticked. “Massie.”
“Don’t Massie me.” Her tone sharpened. “Every other daughter in our social circle is already pairing off. Hosting dinners. Engaged. Planning heirs. Meanwhile, ours still scares men off with intelligence she doesn’t know how to soften.”
“Mom—”
“Don’t interrupt.” Her gaze cut across the table. “You are twenty. Twenty, Madeline. Every dynasty girl your age is preparing to continue their bloodline, while we… well, we can’t seem to pay someone to take you at this point.”
My chest squeezed so hard my fork felt heavy in my hand.
I don’t want you. You were a mistake. Too much work.
“If you didn’t tear them apart in negotiations, you might’ve secured at least one meaningful offer by now.”
