“Good girl, Princesa. Don’tstop fighting for what you deserve.”
Out of everything, I don’t know why it’s Nyx’s voice I hear, but he is the calm, deep rumble permeating my veins as I sit stoically across from my mother in painful silence.
Madeline continues to fix her gaze on me, and with each passing moment, the tension in the office becomes palpable, like an invisible force pressing down on my skin, making it itch. Her scrutiny is relentless, and I can feel her trying to unravel the complex web of emotions that must be written across my face.
Her eyes travel over me, lingering on the form-fitting black dress with long sleeves that plunges between my cleavage, revealing a hint of skin, and then up my leg, parting where my legs are crossed. Madeline’s brows furrow and her jaw tenses as she pauses, her gaze locking onto one of the many scars that crisscross my body.
It’s a stark reminder of the battles I’ve fought, both internal and external.
After she abandoned you,my brain chimes in. I try to shake it away, I really do. I try to tell myself that she probably had a good reason for abandoning me, but then Evelyn sniffles, and I’m back to being mad all over again.
The knowledge that my mother is seeing my scars for the first time should make me upset. Months or years ago, I would have instinctively hidden them, tears welling up in my eyes as shame and insecurity washed over me. But now, I think of the men I love so much and how they’ve taught me to embrace my battle wounds, wear them like badges of honor.
I sit up taller, my posture unyielding, silently challenging Madeline to say something negative. It’s as if I’m daring her to criticize the marks that tell the story of my resilience and the strength I’ve found within myself. The room remains heavy with unspoken words, and after a moment, she swallows thickly and looks away, her silence speaking volumes.
“Nothing to say?” I hedge, breathing through my anxiety. Her eyes snap to mine, and her narrow jaw ticks. I swallow and cock a brow. “You said we’re out of time, whatever that cryptic comment meant, so say what you need to say because I havequestions.”And I’m on the verge of losing my shit.I don’t say that, though, because I can’t. Not now. Not in front of them, her.
“Skylar,” she breathes, and my heart drops to the floor.
Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand is slamming down on her desktop. I think someone gasps, but I can’t see anything past the red haze in my vision. “Donotcall me that!”
Her mouth gapes open, and for the first time since I woke up here, I see a crack, a break, in her controlled façade.
Skylar Moreau.
That’s what she called me.
Though part of the name sounds familiar, the last name doesn’t.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her eyes flitting somewhere over my shoulder. She shakes her head slightly, and I know she’s telling the Hudsons not to intervene.
Turning back to me, she gives me a soft, sympathetic smile that makes my skin crawl. “I’m sorry,Ella,” she corrects. “I just look at you, and all I see is the little girl I used to know.” I watch her throat bob behind blurry eyes. “You look the same, but—”
“I’m not,” I interrupt. “I’m not the same at all.” My fingernails itch to cut bloody moons into my palms. Anything to distract me from the aching chasm in my chest. “I haven’t beenhersince the second you abandoned me at that hospital, bloody, broken, andempty.”
She flinches as though I’ve slapped her.
Another crack.
“It’s not what you think,” she defends with a sniff. “You have it all wrong.” When she looks away instead of continuing on, I nearly fucking scream.
What is wrong with this woman? Memories of the person, the mother, I once knew flit through my mind, but I shut that shit down. I was a child. Clearly, I didn’t know her the way I thought I did.
“Then explain it to me,” I say blankly, even though every nerve and fiber of my being is screaming for answers.
Her hand waves through the air as if to dismiss me, and I nearly lose it. “That’s not important right now. It’s a conversation for another time.”
“Like hell it is.” This time, it’s Evelyn speaking up. Her hand grips my shoulder, but I don’t dare drag my eyes from the woman before me. I can’t. If I look at Evelyn, I’ll crumble. “Ella deserves to know the truth. All of it, Maddie.”
Maddie.
Somehow, the nickname is too soft, too gentle, for her.
My mother keeps her eyes locked on Evelyn’s, and for a long beat, no one speaks. No one barely breathes. Every second that ticks by makes my muscles bunch and my throat close. I can’t stand it.
“Why?” My voice breaks. “Why, Madeline? Why did you leave me like that? Why didn’t you come back for me?”
“I tried,” she breathes, and it’s the first truly honest thing I think she’s said. I can tell by the way the tears she’s kept at bay finally spring free. By the way her body goes lax, as if she can’t keep her mask up any longer. It’s the glint of the mom I once knew peaking through. “I tried, Sk–Ella. I really did. But there’s so much more at play here that you can’t understand.”
