“Yes. A merger, to be precise.”
My pulse kicked up. “Since when?”
“He doesn’t have a son,” she continued. “He wants to ensure his hard work is passed down to someone worthy of it.”
I stared at her. “So your solution is to marry off your son like a pawn in your game?”
My mother sighed, sharp and impatient. “You’re being dramatic. People break up. People make mistakes. Marriage is about working through things.”
“You’re asking me to marry someone who made my life hell,” I said. “When we were together and after.”
Victoria shifted beside my sister, her hands folded neatly in her lap, knuckles white. She looked exactly like she always did when she wanted sympathy—soft eyes, trembling lips, carefully restrained tears. The performance was flawless. It always had been.
“You’re exaggerating,” my mother said. “She’s here. She’s apologizing. That should count for something.”
“It doesn’t,” I snapped.
Victoria flinched as if I’d struck her.
I let out a slow breath and refused to look at her for long. If I did, my anger would give way, and the truth might slip.
“I didn’t just break up with her because she was a terrible girlfriend,” I said. “Though she was. She was controlling, vindictive, and downright cruel when she didn’t get her way.”
“That’s not fair,” my mother said sharply.
“I’m not finished.”
Silence fell, tense and brittle.
“There are things she did,” I continued, choosing my words carefully, “things I won’t repeat in this room. But they’re the reason I will never marry her. Ever.”
Victoria finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “Callahan, please—”
I turned on her so fast that the movement made my sister suck in a breath.
“Don’t,” I said coldly.
She froze.
My gaze locked onto hers, all the restraint I’d been holding onto bleeding away. “You don’t get to speak. Not here. Not now. Not ever.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I just want to explain—”
“No,” I cut in. “You don’t want to explain. You want to rewrite what happened.”
My mother leaned forward. “Callahan, enough. You’re being cruel.”
I looked directly at Victoria then, really looked at her, and let the disgust I’d been suppressing show.
“You are either,” I said slowly, “too dumb to understand why I’ll never forgive you, too desperate to accept reality, or too evil to sit here wanting to marry me after what you did.”
She gasped, a sob ripping out of her chest.
My mother stood abruptly. “Callahan!”
“Which one is it?” I pressed, unmoved. “Because there is no version of reality where this”—I gestured between us—“ends in a wedding.”
Victoria rose shakily to her feet, tears spilling freely now. “I know I hurt you,” she cried. “I know I made mistakes. But I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And this—this is my way of proving it.”
