Chapter 5 - THE CONFRONTATION
My mother,
Eleanor Hail,
walked into the penthouse as if she were entering a throne room.
She was wearing a black silk gown and diamonds that cost more than Mave's apartment building.
She stopped when she saw Mave sitting on the sofa.
Her lip curled in a sneer of pure disdain.
"So,
the little stray has returned,"
Eleanor said.
"I assumed you had more sense than to show your face in this city again."
I stepped out of the shadows,
the light from the fireplace reflecting in my gray eyes.
"She didn't return,
Mother,"
I said.
"I brought her."
Eleanor turned to me,
her expression shifting to one of forced maternal concern.
"Garrett,
darling,"
"you're clearly overwhelmed by the stress of the wedding."
"This woman is a manipulator."
"She's probably using that child to get to our fortune."
I walked toward her,
each step heavy with years of unspoken resentment.
"The child has my eyes,
Mother."
"The child is a Hail."
"And you knew."
Eleanor didn't blink.
"I did what was necessary for the survival of this family."
"Mave Whitlock was a distraction."
"You needed a queen,
not a waitress."
"Coraline Ashford would have given you the power you needed to rule this city."
"Instead,
you've chosen a life of poverty and job applications."
I grabbed my mother's arm,
not hard enough to bruise,
but enough to make her see the rage in my eyes.
"You threatened to steal my child,"
I whispered.
"You lied to me for three years."
"You let my daughter grow up in a cold apartment while I lived in a palace."
"I am not my father,
Eleanor."
"I will not let you rule my life from the shadows."
"You're making a mistake,"
she hissed.
"The Ashfords will destroy you."
"Let them try,"
I said.
"But you won't be here to see it."
I looked at Wesley.
"Take her to the estate in upstate New York."
"Lock the gates."
"She is to have no phone,
no internet,
and no visitors."
"She is officially retired from the family business."
Eleanor's face turned pale.
"You can't do this!
I am the Matriarch!"
"You were the Matriarch,"
I corrected.
"Now,
you're just a woman who lost her son."
As Wesley led her away,
Eleanor looked at Mave one last time.
"You'll regret this,"
she spat.
"He'll grow tired of you just like he did before."
Mave stood up,
her blanket falling to the floor.
She looked at my mother with a dignity that Eleanor could never understand.
"He didn't grow tired of me,"
Mave said.
"He grew tired of your lies."
The door closed,
and the silence returned.
I turned to Mave and pulled her into my arms.
She sobbed against my chest,
the weight of three years finally breaking.
"I'm sorry,"
I whispered into her hair.
"I'm so,
so sorry."
May you like
"I won't let them hurt you again."
"I promise."
