Page 103 of Ruthless Lullaby

"Mindy, my sweetheart."

My eyes fly open. My mother is looking at me with a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Mom," I breathe, tears springing to my eyes as I squeeze her hand. "You're awake."

She nods, her gaze never leaving mine. "I heard you come in, my darling girl."

I feel a sob rising in my throat, but I swallow it back, forcing a trembling smile to my lips. Her smile is warm and loving, just like the way her eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Of course, Mom. I'm right here," I assure her, holding her hand in mine. "I'll always be here for you."

She gently squeezes my hand. "I know, my dear."

"How are you feeling, Mom?" I say with a smile.

She beams back at me. "I'm feeling better, my dear." She slowly shifts her weight on the bed so that she can see me better. "Now tell me, how's life been treating you?"

Her question takes me by surprise. I can sense her genuine curiosity and interest. But this sudden change in her... It's like we're back in her cozy living room, having one of our mother-daughter talks. I want to sob, but I swallow it back. A part of me knows that her sudden alertness might be temporary. I push everything to the sideline, determined to savor every precious moment with her.

So, I start filling her in on my life. Careful not to tell her anything that might make her worry in her fragile state, I tell her about my breakup with Maurice and then falling for Maron. But I don’t mention anything about his background in the mafia or the fact that I decided to walk away from him.

Finally, as I rest my hand on my still-flat belly, I spill the news about the tiny being taking shape inside me. It's surreal to my ears. After years of fighting infertility, pregnancy is something I never thought could happen to me. But it did. And now, here I sit by my dying mother’s side, nurturing the life of her grandchild.

As I finish speaking, I notice that Mom has drifted back into a half-sleeping state. It’s probably the morphine. "Mom," I whisper softly, wondering if she can hear me. "Are you still here with me?" She tightens her grip on my hand in response, a silent message of love and understanding. "Thank you, Mom," I whisper, my voice choked with tears. "Thank you for listening."

"Jesus Christ, I hope she didn't hear all that shit."

I freeze at the voice coming from the doorway. Alexis is standing there with arms crossed over her chest and a cold smirkplaying on her lips. Her eyes are hard and emotionless, glittering with a cruel satisfaction.

Shit!

Did she hear everything?

I really hope not. I shared a lot more than I’m comfortable with. I told Mom about Maurice, Maron, and about the baby growing inside me. If I know Alexis well, she’d only use it against me. As a journalist for a gossip magazine, she even has the power to do that in the most devastating way possible.

We lock eyes, and I notice a flicker of something in her gaze - maybe pity, maybe disgust, maybe both. Then it's gone, replaced by that icy smirk once more.

"Fucking pathetic," she sneers, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I hope you’re proud of yourself for dumping all your shit on Mom."

I open my mouth to defend myself, but nothing comes out. My nervous system is already at capacity with everything that’s happening. What could I possibly say to her anyway?

With disgust evident on her face, my sister turns away. But before she leaves, she pauses and glances back over her shoulder. "I know your dirty little secrets now, Mindy. I know all about Maurice, Maron, and your precious little pregnancy. I know all of it. Just remember that."

With that, she turns around and storms out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

As Alexis' heavy footsteps fade, I'm left alone with Mom again. I heave a sigh, too exhausted to even think about whatthis could mean. I just turn back to Mom's sleeping form and I squeeze her hand gently.

"What would you do in my shoes, Mom?" I whisper.

Only the steady beeping of the heart monitor answers me.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Mindy

I sit by my mother’s bedside for a few more moments.

Her eyes are now closed and she looks as if she’s in a peaceful slumber. The morphine drip is working its way through her fragile system, doing its job. I wipe the streak of tears off my cheeks and continue holding her hand, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

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