“You could have given me the choice.”
“I could have,” he agreed.
“But I was young and proud and hurt.”
“I convinced myself that if you’d really loved me, you would have found a way to reach out.”
“It took me years to understand that you probably thought the same thing about me.”
I set down my coffee cup with a sharp clink.
“We were both idiots.”
“Spectacularly so,” he agreed.
“Though in my defense, your mother was a formidable opponent.”
“The woman could have given Mchaveli lessons in manipulation.”
The mention of my mother brought back a flood of memories I’d rather have left buried.
Margaret Wilson had been a force of nature, convinced that her way was the only right way, and utterly ruthless in pursuing what she believed was best for her family.
“She never liked you,” I said quietly.
“Said you were too ambitious, too focused on money and status.”
“Ironic,” considering how thrilled she would have been if she could see you now.
“She was afraid I’d take you away from her,” Theo said.
“And she was right.”
“I would have.”
“We had plans to move to California after I finished the London program.”
“Remember?”
“Your mother couldn’t stand the thought of losing control over your life.”
“So, she destroyed both our lives instead.”
“Not destroyed,” Theo corrected gently.
“Redirected.”
“You became a teacher.”
“Touched hundreds of young lives, raised a son.”
“That matters, Elellanar.”
“That has value.”
“Does it?”
The question came out more bitter than I’d intended.
Because right now it feels like the only thing that gives me value to my own family is my connection to you and your money.
Theo reached across the space between us and took my hand.
Their inability to see your worth doesn’t diminish it.
It just makes them blind.
My phone buzzed with a text message.
Brandon right on schedule with his weekly check-in call that had become a depressing ritual of polite small talk and barely concealed obligation.
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