Chapter Eleven

Mila’s words seemed to play on repeat in my mind as I headed up the walkway toward my parents’ house. About to knock on the front door, I hesitated, glancing back at my car, wondering if she was right, if maybe fate needed a little push, if I’d simply been depriving myself of being happy. Before I had the chance to leave, the door flew open, my mother standing there.

“What is that?” she asked, a look of disgust on her face as she gestured to the car sitting in her driveway. I was certain she was horrified enough when I’d been driving Steven’s car, considering it was a Ford and not some luxury brand. Now that I was driving a Subaru that was over ten years old, it was even worse.

“It’s my new car,” I replied with a passive-aggressive smile. “Do you like it? Got a great deal on it. I bought it over a month ago. I’m surprised you’re now just noticing.”

“I’ve been too busy with all my charity work to concern myself with what car you’re driving, Ellie.”

I rolled my eyes, fighting back a sarcastic retort at the notion of my mother doing anything for charity.

“I do hope they paid you to take it off their hands, not the other way around,” she continued when I remained silent.

“No, Mother. I paid for it.” I pushed past her and stepped into the house, then spun around to face her. “With money from a job I got on my merits.”

“Oh, really?” She lifted a brow. “You think that’s the case?”

My expression faltered briefly. While it had crossed my mind that Quinn may have hired me just to say he had the daughter of a political powerhouse working at his small firm in order to increase his credibility, I wanted to think he wasn’t so shallow, that he brought me on because of my talent and tenacity to fight for my clients. I needed to believe that was why he hired me.

“Yes, I do.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, holding my chin high.

She leaned into me, her lips formed in a tight line. “You can believe that all you want, but the only reason anyone would ever hire you is because of your name, Ellie. The only reason you got the job at Sullivan was because of me. And I guarantee the only reason you were hired at your current…job,” she said with mild distaste, “was because of me. You’d be nothing without me. Don’t you ever forget that.” She glowered at me for a moment longer, then stepped back, plastering a fake smile on her face. “Now, let’s go greet our guests. There are a few potential donors to your father’s campaign present this evening. Even though he’s busy, we still need to do our part and show them the mother-daughter bond they believe exists.”

She headed toward the formal sitting room, expecting me to follow her, but my feet remained rooted to the floor. It wasn’t until she almost disappeared around the corner that she realized I was no longer beside her. She spun around, her fierce eyes narrowed on me, indignation covering the lines of her face. She opened her mouth, about to berate me, but I interrupted her.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I asked in a quiet voice.

“Don’t be absurd,” she scoffed. “I’m tired of this behavior. I’ve let it slide the past few months, but it’s getting old. Now, come. Let’s not keep our guests waiting.”

“No, Mother.” I narrowed my eyes at her, remaining firmly in place.

Regardless of the amount of jabs and insults this woman had flung at me over the past twenty-eight years, I continued to do what she wanted, even after returning from Italy. I had accomplished everything on my list, apart from truly separating myself from my mother’s overbearing shadow. I still showed up here every Friday night because she demanded it. Yes, I told myself the reason for my presence was to get more information out of my father, but was that really it? I knew my father wouldn’t even be here tonight. He was in San Francisco to prepare for a campaign rally there tomorrow morning. The fact I still came here was the slap in the face I needed. I was still under this woman’s thumb. It was time I freed myself from her hold once and for all.

“Why. Do. You. Hate. Me? Why this animosity toward me?” I simply stared at her, waiting for an answer.

She took several steps toward me, keeping her voice low so no one could overhear our conversation, not wanting anyone to think we were anything but the perfect family. “How could you even say such a thing?” Her expression softened, but I knew it was just an act. I doubted this woman had ever uttered a sincere word in her life. “I took care of you. I fed you. Bathed you. Soothed your cries when you woke up at two in the morning.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. If you loved me, why would you tell me there was no Santa?”

She straightened her spine, taken aback by my question, her brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” The vein in my forehead throbbed, my jaw tightening. “I couldn’t have been more than three years old. I rushed down the stairs Christmas morning to see what Santa had brought me, only to find out he hadn’t come.” I stepped toward her, struggling to keep my composure, the memory of that morning still raw. I lost more than the childhood hope Santa represented. I lost the hope of having the love of a family. “When I asked you why, you told me he wasn’t real. I was three. Three! How could you be so cruel and heartless to a little girl?”

She blinked repeatedly before straightening, her expression resolute, unwavering. “Because, Ellie. The sooner you realized how the world worked the better. Life isn’t all fairy tales and dreams. It’s hard. It’s painful. Apparently, you still want to live up in the clouds somewhere.”

“I’d rather be in the clouds and happy than down here on earth and miserable…like you.” I glared at her, my hardened stare slowly softening.

Stepping back, I took stock of my surroundings. Vaulted entryway. Marble tile. Pristine floral arrangements. The sound of polite chatter coming from the sitting room. This was what my life had always consisted of. The image of perfection. Putting on an act. Not letting anyone see what hid behind the mask we all wore, disguising who we truly were. I left Italy to figure out who I was. Maybe I had known all along.

“What am I doing here?” I murmured to myself.

“You’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing,” my mother replied in a clipped tone. “You’re here to show the donors to your father’s campaign that we’re the picture of a happy family. It’s taken a lot of convincing on my part after your little…wedding fiasco. But people are finally starting to forget about that, as evidenced by Brock finally being ahead in the polls again. So, come into the sitting room, tone down the snide comments for one night, and show these people we’re the typical American family with the values they want to see in Congress, then perhaps the White House.”

I backed away, slowly shaking my head. “No.”

My mother stopped, taken by surprise, her wide eyes narrowing at me. “No?”

“That’s right.”

Smiling, an excitement I hadn’t felt since waiting for Dante in front of the Spanish Steps sparked in my veins. I immediately knew the path I was supposed to be on, and this was not it. Mila was right. Sometimes fate did need a push.

“I have to go.” I spun around, heading toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” my mother demanded, stalking after me.

“Back to the clouds,” I replied, rushing out of the house.