Page 125 of His to Own

“You’re looking good,” she says. “Your hair is looking healthy. Though, you could get some Botox in your forehead. I see a line forming there.”

“Why do you always do that?” I ask.

Her expression doesn’t waver. “Do what?”

“Comment on my looks? You do the same to Lana and Adriana.”

“I am your mother. I want my daughters looking their best.”

“But it hurts, Mom,” I whisper as my tears prick at my eyes. “It hurts whenever you do it.”

She flips her long, beautiful blonde hair over her shoulder. So different from my dark locks. “Why wouldn’t I comment on the way my daughters look? I just want what’s best for you. I never meant to cause you any pain.”

“But you know what it’s like.”

“What do I know?”

“What it’s like to be lonely. It’s why you…”

She sucks in a breath and holds her hand up. “We don’t need to discuss that. I told you about it because you deserved to know. But we had that conversation. So let’s move on from it.”

“But I have so many more questions. Don’t I deserve an answer?”

“I don’t want your father finding out about this. I convinced him that you’re his daughter. That’s all he needs to know.”

“But he clearly doesn’t believe it,” I say, clenching my hands into fists. “Otherwise he never would have treated me so terribly. And you know that.”

“You could be his daughter. I’m not quite sure. I never did a test. I never wanted to know and it’s better this way.”

“You know I’m not his daughter. You know it. He knows it. So why can’t we talk about it?”

She shakes her head and turns away from me. “Elena, you should go. If you’re going to act like this, then you should go.”

I flinch. Fight, I remind myself. I have to fight for what I want in life. Otherwise, I’m always going to get walked right over. “Did you love this man? This man you had an affair with?”

“I did. It’s why I left him so your father wouldn’t murder him. But your father still had him killed anyway. It broke my heart, Elena. You have to know I didn’t do any of that to hurt you.”

“But you let Father treat me terribly for my entire life. And you didn’t say a word. You didn’t stand up for me.”

“I couldn’t. He would just throw my affair back in my face.”

I gasp. “So you let me suffer so you didn’t have to? So you didn’t have to feel shame for cheating on your husband?”

“Your father is a controlling, cold man. You know this. Yes. I… cheated on him. But there was no love between us.”

“That’s not an excuse. You cheated and you had me and you threw me to the wolves. You let him hurt me every day.”

“Your father never laid a hand on you.”

“He has hit me, Mom. You know this.”

“But not every day.”

I huff. My hands are so clenched, I’m worried I might be cutting off my blood supply. “Even if he didn’t physically hurt me every day, he still was cold to me every day. He would make me feel lesser than every single day. I felt like I was dying in this house and you never helped me. All because you were worried about what he’d do to you, is that it?”

It dawns on me how similar my story is to Maxim’s. He had an abusive father and a mother who stood back and watched. Who didn’t do anything.

Just like my own mother.