Benne

he humidity of a New York summer. Justin' s face was ashen, his mouth slightly agape. He lo

single, perfect tear rolled down her

in victimhood. "Are you trying to mock me? After everything that's ha

w you hate me. I know you think I'm trying to steal your li

isentangled himself from her and lunged forward, his fa

misstep on the stairs earlier, giving way beneath me. I cried out as a sharp, searing pain s

m in a grey haze. The pain

his voice laced with the contem

eyes, but Carolina let out another delicate sob. He immediately turned

glaring at me on the floor. "

ago, when Carolina had decided her career was more important than her children and had left for a European tour. Bertram, only eight at the time, h

while he sobbed, and carried him back to the house. He had clung to me, his

ove and dedication could erase biology. I

fool I

All it took was a few crocodile tears and a well-rehearsed sob story about the "pressures of fame" and

is touch was rough, impersonal. He carried me inside, past the gawking onl

n. He returned a moment later with an ice pack wrapped i

d. "Was that necessary? Your words can be so

s concerned about me. A tiny, stupid flick

ng to manage mingling for the rest of the party? The board memb

cold, hard truth. He didn't care that I was

id, my voice flat. I was done being

a perfect smile plastered on my face, while women whispered behind their hands about my "checkered

igned distress. "Justin? Is she alright? I feel so terrible.

Justin called back instantly.

like I'm a bad mother. Like I abandoned my children. She doesn't understand the sacrifices I had to make

f emotional blackmail. The boys' deepest fear-ab

icked cries. "Mom

drive you away!" Bertram shrieked.

ask of fury. He didn't even look at me. He was

r ankle," he said, his voice

and his hysterical sons, I saw it in h

He could finally have the night he

-