All those people who had sneered at me, who had mocked me behind my back, suddenly lined up to congratulate me, falling over themselves with flattery.
Back then, they used to whisper that Anthony must have done something terrible to feel guilty about, that it was the only explanation for why he treated me so well.
I was drowning in it, certain that a love like ours would never change.
Then Victoria wedged herself between us and shattered that dream to pieces.
But never, not once, did I imagine he would use my mother's life as a bargaining chip. That he would weaponize the only vulnerability I had left, just to make Victoria happy.
My fists clenched so tight my nails carved crescents into my palms. The pain didn't register. It was nothing compared to what was tearing through my chest.
Despair pressed down on me like a hand over my mouth. I couldn't breathe. I closed my eyes, and tears rolled silently down my cheeks.
When I opened them again, everything inside me had gone quiet. Dead quiet.
"Fine," I whispered. "I'll apologize."
Anthony looked at me with satisfaction, snapped his fingers, and his assistant placed a sheet of paper covered in text on the hospital bed.