Chapter 4

I didn't have much to pack.

A few clothes that were mine, not Madeleine's carefully preserved style. Some books. Sketches I'd hidden away.

My real belongings were memories, and those were too heavy to carry.

As I folded a worn t-shirt, my mother swept into the room.

Marcus had clearly summoned her. Her face was a mask of anxiety and disapproval.

"Ava, what is this nonsense Marcus told me? You're leaving?"

She wrung her hands, her eyes darting around the opulent bedroom as if to remind me what I was throwing away.

"Have you lost your mind? After all he's done for you? For us?"

"For us?" I repeated, my voice flat. "You mean for you, Mother. The allowance, the house he bought you."

Her face flushed. "Don't be disrespectful! I was thinking of your future! Your security!"

"My security was being his possession," I said. "And Leo doesn't need me anymore. He made that perfectly clear."

"Of course, he needs you!" she insisted, her voice rising. "He's a young man, he's confused. He loves you, deep down."

I almost laughed. Love. That word had no place here.

Later that evening, Marcus hosted a small, private gathering. Ostensibly to discuss some charity initiative, but I knew it was a display.

Madeleine's sister, Aunt Caroline, was there. Her eyes, so like Leo's, raked over me with undisguised contempt.

Leo, emboldened by her presence, stood up during a lull in the conversation.

"You know," he said, his voice carrying across the room, "it's always amusing to see people try to fit into worlds they don't belong in."

He looked directly at me.

"Some just lack a certain... sophistication. No matter how many expensive clothes you put on them."

A ripple of uncomfortable laughter went through the guests.

Aunt Caroline smiled thinly. "Some people are just good at pretending, dear. Until their true colors show. Usually, it' s the color of gold they' re after."

The implication was clear. I was the unsophisticated gold-digger.

After ten years of devotion, of wiping his tears, of celebrating his triumphs, of being the only mother he'd ever really known.

My cheeks burned, but I kept my expression neutral.

I was done reacting. Done caring what these people thought.