envelope of cash.
“Let me finish, Dad.” She turned toward where Lauren stood. “This is a lot of money. Probably more than we’ve ever had at once.”
Lauren’s expression turned smug.
“But you know what’s funny?” Emma went on, her voice growing steadier. “We’ve never needed it. We’ve had everything that actually matters.”
Clara stood and moved beside her sister. “We’ve had a father who stayed. Who taught us. Who loved us when we were hard to love.”
“Who made sure we never felt broken,” Emma added.
Lauren’s smile began to fade.
“This is a lot of money.
Probably more than
we’ve ever had at once.”
“We don’t want your money,” Clara said firmly. “We don’t want your gowns. And we don’t want YOU.”
Emma raised the envelope high, ripped it open, and flung the bills into the air. The cash fluttered down like confetti, scattering across the floor and landing at Lauren’s expensive heels.
“You can keep it,” Emma declared. “We’re not for sale.”
Lauren’s face twisted in fury. “You ungrateful… Do you have any idea what I’m offering you? Do you know who I am now? I’m famous! I’ve spent 18 years building a career, making something of myself!”
“For yourself,” I interrupted. “You did it for yourself.”
“And now you want to use us to look like a devoted mother,” Clara finished sharply. “We’re not your props.”
“We’re not for sale.”
Lauren’s composure completely unraveled.
“You think you’re so righteous?” she shouted, turning on me. “You kept them in poverty! You turned them into little seamstresses instead of giving them real opportunities! I came back to rescue them from you!”
“No,” I shot back. “You came back because your career is fading and you need a redemption story. Blind daughters you supposedly sacrificed for? That’s perfect for your image.”
Lauren’s face blanched, then flushed.
