“The Carver name,” she clarified. “But you’ve always lived… under the radar.”
I frowned. “Why does that matter?”
“Because imagine the implications if they realized the missing boy splashed across the news was a Carver grandson.” Melanie shrugged, too casually. “You should be grateful it hasn’t gotten out.”
She gave a small, dismissive laugh, like her time here was asocial call and not a witness to the total destruction of my life. Did she not grasp what I’d lost—or did she simply not care?
“My son was forcibly taken, Melanie. Maybe even kill—” I stopped myself, the words catching in a sob. “Let that sink in. I hope you’re not suggesting Jake is, in any way, an embarrassment to the family.”
“No. Of course not,” Melanie said, visibly unnerved by my outburst. “I’m saying it’s better for everyone if certain… associations stay quiet.”
“That’s my son,” I snapped. “Not an ‘association.’ Not something you manage.”
“I’m not saying that,” Melanie exhaled, irritation flickering across her face. “I’m saying emotions are running high and you’re hearing things I’m not actually saying.”
“I don’t know. It sounded pretty clear to me.”
“You chose a different life, Michelle.” Her tone was tight and defensive. “You stepped away. Raised your kids without any of the safety nets you grew up with. The reality is, Jake would never have been taken if he lived in the Carver bubble. Not with our security. Not with our resources.Mykids are safe.”
“You think I did this to him?”
“Michelle, stop. You know what I meant.”
“No. I don’t,” I said, teetering on the edge. “Help me understand.”
“Yours were”—she hesitated just long enough to make it worse—“vulnerable. If you’d just followed Mother’s plan and left Scott like you were supposed to—”
“Half my children wouldn’t exist,” I cut her off.
She held my gaze, her voice deadly calm. “Nor would Jake.”
The breath left my body. Of all the things she could have said, why that? Anger surged through me as I struggled to respond.
My sister didn’t wait. “If we’d made it to the clinic…”
“Don’t.” I slammed the glass down so hard that liquid amber splashed across the counter. “Don’t you dare.”
Melanie exhaled through her nose—the exact sound our mother made when we were being irrational children. “Michelle… you know it’s true. He never would have been born.”
A sick silence settled between us. How could she be so cruel—weaponizing a choice I’d carried quietly for years and twisting it into proof that Jake’s disappearance was somehow my deserved punishment? From the day I’d felt him kick inside me, Jake was mine. He was loved and alive. I had never regretted his birth—not once. Never beaten myself up for the decision I’d made back then because it didn’t matter. I’d brought Jake into the world, and he was a miracle. Just like every one of my children.
“Leave,” I whispered.
Melanie opened her mouth, voice already sharpening with that familiar, long-practiced patience. “I’m only saying what’s—”
“Leave!” I snapped, cutting her off.
“I’ll leave,” she replied calmly, lifting her glass, “when I’m finished with my drink.”
“You’ll leave now!” I shouted, knocking the drink out of her hand and sending it smashing into the wall. Melanie sat motionless, her hand curled like the glass was still in it. For a second, I thought she might say something else. Something worse. But Scott rushed in, placing himself in the middle of our war.
“God dammit, Melanie. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Scott’s response made clear he’d heard every word from the other room.
She held a hand up to him. “This is between my sister and me.”
“Nah,” Scott said, not budging. “This is between you and my family. And you’re done here.”
