Page 88 of Never Enough

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though I know no apology will ever be enough to quench the hatred burning in her delusional eyes.

As I look at the gun in her hand, I understand. Some loves are destined to be left unspoken. Some words doomed to remain forever locked within a heart that soon might cease to beat.

“Mom,” I choke out between hitched breaths. “Please don’t do this. I-I just want to go.”

“Go?” Lynn sneers. “After everything you’ve taken from me? You think you can just walk away?”

I feel the accusation like a blow, the weight of years of blame and bitterness suffocating me. I’ve tried so hard to build something beautiful from the wreckage of my past, but it seems all roads lead back to this moment. Alone, trapped, powerless.

“You went to Whitmore Institute; you played your precious harp with money that should’ve been mine!” Lynn’s words are venom, seething with resentment. “Grandma’s money was supposed to be for me! But no, you had to steal it, didn’t you? For your talentless dreams!”

“I-I worked hard,” I manage to say, though my throat feels constricted.

It wasn’t just about the money; it was about the music, the only thing that made sense when the world around me crumbled.

“Worked hard?” Lynn scoffs. “You think playing that stupid instrument makes you special? Your dad left because of you. Because we had a daughter who brought nothing but misery.”

“That’s not—” I begin, but my words die on my lips. What’s the use? Mom is impervious to truth or reason.

“Alexandru Whitmore is obsessed with you,” Mom continues, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “He follows you around like a lost puppy. I’ve seen it. What did you do to him, huh? Cast some kind of witch’s spell?”

No. Fuck no.

“Leave Alex out of this,” I whisper, my heart aching for the boy who saw me when I felt invisible, the boy whose laughter could light up the darkest corners of my soul.

She laughs, a sound devoid of joy. “No, he’s under your spell, and I’m going to break it. I’m going to do what society should have done a long time ago.” Her hateful gaze narrows. “Get rid of you.”

Mom’s words cut deeper than any knife. Is this how my story ends? Not with a crescendo of applause but with the shattered fragments of a life half lived?

I close my eyes, tears streaming down my face. I had him. Had his love. Saw his love for me only minutes ago.

I can almost feel Alex’s arms around me, his breath on my neck, and the way he whispers my name like a prayer. I want so desperately to tell him I love him, that I forgive him.

The cold, unyielding barrel of the gun staring at my skin will ensure I’ll never love again.

Mom’s finger tenses on the trigger, preparing to send me into oblivion. I close my eyes, on instinct, tears cascading down my cheeks.

But the shot never comes.

Instead, the door slams open with a force that shakes the walls, reverberating through my very bones. The lock breaks.

Someone busts through the door.

My eyes fly open.

Chapter thirty-five

Daphne

The gunshot cracks through the air, a deafening explosion that shatters the silence. Before I can react, Alex bursts into the room, his arms encircling me in a protective shield. A wave of terror washes over me as I feel the bullet’s heat brush across my cheek.

Time seems to stretch in slow motion. The world tilts as we hit the ground, Alex’s body collapsing on top of mine. Pain explodes along my right hip, and I gasp, stars dancing in my vision. I push past the pain, my mind racing.

Because it’sAlexwho dashed into the bathroom.Alexwho shielded me from the bullet with his own body.

Hands wrapping around his body over mine, I hug him close. “Alex?” my voice muffles against his chest. His heart hammers beneath my ear, a powerful, rhythmic beat that fills me with a mixture of relief and fear.

He’s alive.

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