“You’ve still remained the same loser,” she said loudly enough for the girls to hear. “Still living in this… hole? You’re supposed to be a man, making big money, building an empire.”
“You’re supposed to be a man,
making big money,
building an empire.”
My jaw tightened, but I refused to react.
Emma and Clara had gone still at their machines, hands resting on the fabric. They couldn’t see her, but they could hear the bitterness in her voice.
“Who’s there, Dad?” Clara asked softly.
I inhaled, steadying myself. “It’s your… mother.”
The silence afterward was suffocating.
Lauren moved further into the room, her heels striking against the worn floor.
They couldn’t see her,
but they could hear the venom
in her voice.
“Girls!” she said, her tone suddenly sugary sweet. “Look at you. You’re so grown up.”
Emma’s expression didn’t change. “We can’t see, remember? We’re blind. Isn’t that why you left us?”
The directness made Lauren hesitate for a brief second. “Of course,” she corrected smoothly. “I meant… you’ve grown so much. I’ve thought about you every single day.”
“Funny,” Clara replied, her voice cold as ice. “We haven’t thought about you at all.”
I had never felt prouder of my daughters.
Lauren cleared her throat, visibly unsettled by their response. “I came back for a reason. I have something for you.”
She brought two garment bags from behind her and set them neatly on our couch. Then she took out a thick envelope, the kind that lands with a heavy thud.
My chest tightened as she arranged her little display.
“These are designer gowns,” she said, unzipping one bag to show off the luxurious fabric. “The kind you girls could never afford. And there’s cash here too. Enough to change your lives.”
Emma reached for Clara’s hand, and they gripped each other firmly.
“Why?” I asked hoarsely. “Why now? After 18 years?”
“Why now?
After 18 years?”
