Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
“Water for us,” I said, not wanting anything to dull my senses for what was to come.
When the waiter retreated, my father leaned forward, his expression hardening. “Let me be clear, Cora. This ends now. You’re coming home with us tonight. Your mother has already arranged for your old room to be prepared. Your therapist is expecting you Monday morning.”
I stared at him, genuinely stunned by his delusion. “That’s not happening.”
“Don’t be difficult,” my mother snapped, her voice taking on the syrupy quality she used when trying to manipulate me. “You’ve had your adventure, dear. Proven whatever point you needed to make. But this has gone on long enough. Look at you, in that cheap dress, with this person.” Her eyes flicked dismissively toward Marcus. “What would your grandfather say if he could see you now?”
Marcus remained perfectly still beside me, his silence more powerful than any words could be. I could feel the tension radiating from him, the controlled power of a predator deciding whether to strike.
“The Cora we raised would never embarrass us like this,” my father continued, acting as if Marcus weren’t present. “That trust fund we set up for you was meant to set you up properly, not finance whatever sordid lifestyle you’ve been living. Do you have any idea what people say about you? About us? Your mother can barely show her face at the club anymore.”
“How tragic for her,” I murmured, earning a sharp look from both of them.
“Enough sass,” my father barked. “You’re coming home tonight. End of discussion. We’ll get this marriage annulled, if it’s even legal, which I seriously doubt. Your mother has already spoken to several suitable young men who are willing to overlook this… indiscretion.”
The waiter returned with drinks, setting them down with trembling hands before retreating quickly. My father took a long swallow of his scotch, then fixed me with the look that used to make me shrink into myself.
“I expect you to be grateful,” he continued. “After everything you’ve put us through, we’re still willing to welcome you back. Still willing to restore your place in this family. Most parents wouldn’t be so forgiving.”
“Forgiving?” The word escaped me in a whisper. “Is that what you think this is?”
“Of course, it is,” my mother said. “We’re offering you a clean slate, Cora. A chance to put this ugliness behind us and return to your real life.”
That was when Marcus finally spoke, his voice so quiet they had to lean forward to hear him. “Her real life,” he said, each word measured and precise, “is with me. Has been for a while now.”
My father’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “No one asked for your input. This is a family matter.”
“I am her family,” Marcus replied, his tone carrying the dangerous undertone I recognized as carefully controlled rage. “The only family she needs.”
“Security,” my father called over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off Marcus. “We need someone removed from our private dining room.”
I sat frozen, unable to speak as years of conditioning battled against the person I’d become. My face settled into a mask of boredom, a defense mechanism I’d perfected in childhood, but my hand gripped Marcus’s under the table so tightly my knuckles were likely white with the tension.
“You’ve always been such a disappointment.” My mother sighed, shaking her head. “Always so willful, so determined to embarrass us. We gave you everything, and this is how you repay us?”
“We expect you to come to your senses now,” my father added, his tirade building steam. “Pack whatever meager belongings you care about and say goodbye to… this person. Our driver is waiting outside to take you home. I’ve already contacted the board at English Financial. There’s a position waiting for you, provided you demonstrate the proper attitude. It’s more than you deserve, but that’s what parents do. They forgive. They provide. Now it’s time for you to show some gratitude.”
They finally paused, breathing slightly heavier from the exertion of their self-righteous speeches. Their eyes fixed on me with identical expressions of expectation, waiting for my capitulation, my apology, my surrender. The silence stretched between us, taut as a wire.
I looked at my parents’ disdain-filled faces and felt something inside me finally giving way, like a knot suddenly unraveling in my gut after years of tension. My entire life, I’d been taught to swallow my words, to speak only when spoken to, to agree and apologize and accommodate. The invisible chains they’d wrapped around me since childhood suddenly felt gossamer thin, their power existing only in my mind.
I glanced at Marcus beside me, his steady presence a reminder of who I’d become, of the strength I’d found in his arms and in myself. Then I turned back to my parents, smiled, and spoke the words I’d been holding back for most of my life.