Chapter 3 - The Ultimatum
I felt something cold coil tightly in my chest. “This isn't just a bug, Mom.”
“Bianca only turns eighteen once,” my mother snapped back.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The sheer, suffocating narcissistic cruelty of the statement physically knocked the wind out of me.
“Mom, Leo could—” My voice cracked, unable to say the word die.
My mother cut me off without missing a single beat. “Leave him with Patrick. That man ought to be good for something besides fixing sinks.”
Patrick slowly raised his head. He had heard her voice bleeding through the speaker. He didn't look hurt. He looked at me with an intense, unreadable expression.
“Put on the green designer dress I sent to your apartment and get over here right now,” my mother commanded. “Your seat at the head VIP table is empty, and people are already asking where you are. You are embarrassing the family.”
I closed my eyes. For twenty-nine years, this had been my entire existence. My mother had dictated what I studied, how I dressed, and who I was allowed to prioritize. Bianca was the golden child. I was the fixer—the disposable daughter expected to absorb the family's stress and keep up their flawless public appearances.
“I’m not leaving my son,” I whispered, my voice trembling with newfound defiance.
A heavy, lethal silence fell over the line.
“Clara,” my mother said, her voice dropping into a razor-thin, venomous tone. “You have exactly fifteen minutes to walk through those ballroom doors. If you don't show up, consider yourself completely cut off from this family.”
My eyes snapped open. “What?”
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“I will write you out of the will. I will cut you out of the trust. Don’t ever ask me for help, don’t ever show up at my house again, and forget about receiving a single cent from me. Tonight, your son is an inconvenience.”
👉 The line went dead, leaving me completely hollowed out, unaware that my husband was about to pick up the pieces.
