Chapter 4 - Unearthing the Past
The living room fell into a suffocating silence.
The twins stopped playing with their blocks, looking up at the sudden tension in the room with wide, uncomprehending eyes. One of them whimpered, but my mother didn't rush to comfort them. For the first time in their lives, the twins were completely invisible to her.
“You’re... you’re twisting things,” my mother stammered, her voice rising in defensive panic. “That money was a loan! I was investing it! I was going to double it for her by the time she turned eighteen!”
“With what?” Mia scoffed, stepping closer to the recliner. “Your nonexistent savings? Mom, stop lying. We have the bank logs. We have the text messages. You gave thousands of dollars to Mia’s husband behind our backs because you wanted to play the grand benefactor in their household while punishing Janette for daring to have a boundary.”
“I did it for the family!” my mother shrieked, her mask finally cracking entirely, revealing the ugly, desperate narcissism underneath. “You two have no idea how hard it is! Janette has always been so cold, so independent, acting like she doesn’t need me! And Mia lives across the country like she abandoned us! The twins... the twins actually needed me. They loved me unconditionally!”
“They’re four years old, Mom,” I said quietly. “They don’t love you unconditionally; they love the fact that you have no rules and buy them toys to buy their affection. But my daughter? My daughter loved you. She actually believed you cared when you sat at her birthday table and laughed while her dress was destroyed.”
“It was just a dress!” my mother screamed, tears of rage springing to her eyes. “You’re destroying this family over a stupid piece of fabric!”
“No,” Rachel spoke up from the doorway, her voice shaking but resolute. “She’s not destroying the family, Mom. You did that a long time ago. We just finally stopped pretending the foundation wasn’t rotting.”
My mother looked around the room, searching desperately for an ally. She looked at Rachel, who turned her gaze away. She looked at Mia, whose expression was carved from stone. Finally, she looked at me.
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“If you report this,” my mother whispered, her voice trembling with venomous realization, “if you take me to court over that trust fund... you will never see me again. I will tell the whole family that you tore us apart.”
“Threatening us with your absence?” Mia laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “Mom, that isn’t a punishment anymore. That’s a promotion.”
