The blunt honesty hit the table like glass.
Dad gave a small, humorless smile. “Interesting. So my son is supporting a household alone while chasing his… musical fantasy.”
“It’s not a fantasy,” I snapped.
He ignored me.
“Tell me, Hadley,” he continued, “do you understand how unstable the music industry is? Tour income fluctuates. Streaming revenue is inconsistent. Band careers collapse overnight.”
My fingers curled into fists under the table.
Hadley inhaled slowly before answering. “I understand Cal works extremely hard. Rehearsals, writing, shows. It’s not easy.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“He’s building something,” she said, voice gaining steel. “And I’m building a family with him.”
Dad scoffed. “Family requires stability. Planning. Discipline. Not late nights in clubs and headlines about bar fights and drunken performances.”
“You read tabloids now?” I muttered.
“I read facts.”
Mom reached across the table slightly. “Richard, maybe we can...”
“No,” he said again. “Someone needs to speak honestly before this entire situation collapses.”
He turned to me fully now.
“You had an executive internship lined up at Parker & Lowe. A guaranteed career path. Security. Respect. Instead, you threw it away to play guitar in dive bars.”
“It’s not dive bars,” I shot back. “We sell out venues. We have a label deal.”
“And what happens when you don’t?” he countered instantly. “What happens when the label drops you? When the band breaks? What supports this family then?”
“I will,” I growled.
“With what?” he pressed. “Passion doesn’t pay mortgages, Calvin.”
The old anger crawled up my spine like fire ants.
“I’m not you,” I snapped. “I don’t want your life. Your suits. Your boardrooms. Your fake dinners where nobody actually talks.”
“My life built this family,” he shot back. “It gave you every opportunity you now waste.”
“Waste?” I slammed my palm on the table. The silverware rattled. Mom gasped softly. “I’m doing what I love. I’m building something that’s mine.”
“You’re running from responsibility,” he said coldly. “And now you’ve dragged a child into it with a girl who has no education, no career, and no plan.”
Silence detonated.
Hadley stood.
Slow. Controlled. Her hand rested protectively over her stomach.
“Don’t talk about my child like it’s a mistake,” she said quietly.
Dad’s eyes flashed. “I’m discussing facts.”
