“She’s not listening. She never does. And when I point it out, I’m the bad one.”
He ignored her. “Sweetheart, did something happen today? Anything at all?”
The lie rose on reflex. “Nothing.”
My mother heard the tremor and pounced. “There is absolutely something wrong with her. And she expects us to guess. It’s another one of her tests.”
“I’m not testing you,” I whispered.
“Of course you are. Everything you do is a performance for your father’s attention.”
“I’m not?—”
“You cry when he looks at you. You shut down when I speak. You crave my husband’s sympathy.”
The tears gathered faster.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh look. Tears. See, Marco? She proves my point.”
“Massie. Stop,”
“I will not stop telling the truth. You enable her. And look where it’s gotten us.”
My fingers tightened around my glass. One more ounce of pressure and it would snap; we both might.
“Tell me, how do you expect to navigate dynasty society like this? Emotional. Staring into space like a ghost. You will be eaten alive.”
My father turned on her. “She’s overwhelmed. Look at her.”
“I am looking. And what I see terrifies me.” Her lip curled. “She wasn’t raised to be fragile. Yet here we are—Madeline unable to handle a basic dinner conversation. I don’tunderstand where we went wrong,”Her fork tapped the table in a neat, irritated rhythm.
“Perhaps we should have been stricter.”
My father exhaled hard, knuckles. “Madeline has always handled more than she should. You know that.”
“She handled nothing. You see competence because you want to see competence. The reality is she hides behind her intelligence because she doesn’t have the social skills to balance it. And do you know what’s worse? She refuses to admit her part in it.”
I swallowed, tasting wine and metal. “My part in what?”
“In everything.” She flicked her fingers, as if the word was obvious. “You never listen when I’m trying to help.”
“Massie—” my father tried again.
She raised a hand to silence him. “Every other dynasty daughter I know is building futures. Meanwhile, ours is… what exactly? Drifting.”
The word punched clean through.
“I have a job,” I said under my breath.
“You have meetings,” she corrected. “None of which matter if you can’t translate them into alliances.”
I stared at the linen. It blurred as tears dropped, darkening the fabric in uneven circles.
“Look at me, Madeline.” Her tone softened.
My head lifted automatically.
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “Sweetheart, you are becoming the girl people whisper about. The one who shows so much potential yet never delivers. Everyone wonders why.”
