Page 232 of Fame & Rhythm

Standing in front of me, smiling. Her pupils are blown wide, her expression is off—too sharp, too manic, like she’s barely tethered to reality.

“There she is,” she mutters, her tone dripping with mock affection. “My little girl.” She tosses the pillowcase aside like it’s nothing. “Smile for the camera, honey.”

“What—” I start, but a flash explodes in my face. I flinch hard, squeezing my eyes shut as white spots burst across my vision. When I force them open again, everything swims for a second before slowly settling.

“I told you this wasn’t over,” she says, planting one hand on her hip, that same twisted smirk curling her lips.

“W-why are you doing t-this?” My voice comes out hoarse, unsteady.

She laughs, sharp and mocking. “Wow. They really did raise you stupid, didn’t they?”

“Loretta,” I say, forcing myself to stay focused. “Why am I here?”

“As in tied to a chair in my basement?” she replies sweetly.

I glare at her. “No. Why am I—”

“I know what you meant,” she cuts in, her tone turning cold. “I’m just enjoying this.”

My gaze flicks around the room, where I find it’s small, damp, and has concrete walls. A narrow staircase leads up to a closed door.

Nowhere to go.

“What do you want?”

“Are you really that fucking stupid?”

“Money,” I say flatly. “This is about money?”

Her grin widens. “Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.” She claps slowly, mockingly. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner.”

My stomach churns. “Tell me how much,” I say, forcing the words out. “I’ll get it for you. Just let me go.”

“Oh, honey…” she drawls, tilting her head. “Where’s the fun in that?” Her eyes gleam. “I need you to understand something. I’m in control now. I’m the one who deserves all of this. Who deserves the fame. Not you!”

“Why would you even want fame?” I ask, genuinely confused despite everything.

She rolls her eyes as if I’ve offended her. “Because fame brings money. And by the end of tonight, everyone will know who I am.” Her smile sharpens. “Everyone will know I’m your mother. That I made you.”

“You didn’t make me who I am,” I snap. “My parents did.”

The shift in her is instant. Her smile drops. She strides forward and backhands me hard across the face. Pain explodes through my cheek before my head snaps to the side.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” she hisses. “It’s my blood in your veins. Not theirs! You are me.” She jabs her fingers into her chest to make her point.

“I am nothing like you!” I shout back.

Her brows lift, amused. “Oh, Acacia,” she says, almost fondly. “You’re exactly like me.” She leans closer. “Where do you think your music comes from? Not Colt, that’s for damn sure. I was a musician. I was almost famous.”

Her voice turns bitter. “I had a band. I had everything. Freedom, parties, money… a life.” Her lips curl. “Then you came along and ruined it. I got pregnant, and they kicked me out. Just like that. Everything gone… because of you!”

“I thought you were a hooker,” I shoot back.

She laughs again, unfazed. “Money has always been my priority. Fame comes a close second. The men I was with?” She shrugs. “Record execs, musicians, managers… I was in the right circles.”

Her eyes darken. “And then you happened.” My stomach drops. “I tried to get rid of you,” she says as though it’s the most ordinary thing she’s ever admitted. “Paid a guy to hit me. Didn’t work. Drugs, alcohol, nothing fucking worked.” Her gaze locks onto mine. “You just wouldn’t go away.”

“I was a baby,” I shoot back. “How could I possibly be responsible for ruining your life? That’s just—”