Apologize.
Make her comfortable.
Instead, she breathed slowly.
Marissa looked at the title.
Not One.
Then she turned to Avery.
“You embarrassed me,” she said.
Not “I’m sorry.”
Not “I hurt you.”
Not “I understand.”
Just the wound that mattered most to her: her image.
Avery nodded once.
“I told the truth.”
“You destroyed opportunities your sister wanted.”
Arden spoke before Avery could.
“No, Mom.”
Marissa looked at her sharply.
Arden’s voice trembled, but she continued.
“You wanted them. I just thought wanting what you wanted would make me important.”
For the first time, Marissa looked truly startled.
“You loved performing,” she said.
“I loved being praised,” Arden answered. “There’s a difference.”
Avery looked at her sister.
Something loosened in the room.
Marissa’s face hardened.
“So now both of you are against me.”
Russell stepped beside his daughters.
“No,” he said. “We are beside them. There’s a difference.”
Marissa laughed softly, but her eyes shone.
“You all think you’re so noble. Do you know how hard it was to get anyone to care about this family? Do you know how many doors opened because of what I built?”
Avery surprised herself by answering gently.
“I know you wanted to be seen too.”
Marissa went silent.
It was the first sentence that reached past her armor.
Avery did not say it to excuse her mother. She said it because truth had many rooms, and she was no longer afraid to enter all of them.
“But you used us to do it,” Avery continued. “And I can understand your hunger without letting it eat my life.”
Marissa’s mouth tightened.
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