Page 62 of Relentless

“Until you needed me out of the way,” Oakleigh’s eyes narrowed as she articulated the glaring truth. “You’ve told those lies so many times, Mom. I think you’re starting to believe them.”

Harper slammed her hand down on the countertop, savoring the sting on the tender skin of her palm.

“I wasthere,Oakleigh,” she declared. “You weren’t.”

“And that’s what you’ve relied on all these years,” Oakleigh’s tone went flat as she jabbed her finger at her mother. “You made it so she couldn’t come home, even if she wanted to.”

“That’s not true,” Harper’s voice cracked.

“I’ve seen the letters,” Oakleigh revealed, her icy gaze finally meeting Harper’s. “Maeve was an orphan, except her family was alive and well,” she accused, shaking her head in disgust.

“Just like you did to me.”

She swallowed hard as though the following words were nearly too painful to say.

“And now — you’re doing it toPaisley.”

Harper immediately deflected.

“I suppose I’m such a bad mother, right Oakleigh? You weresoabused,” Harper spat. “The poor little rich girl who got whatever she wanted.”

Her lip twisted into a mean smirk.

“Poor you.”

Oakleigh let out a burst of callous laughter.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied. “Everything I ever wanted — except for amom.”

The accuracy of the jab stole Harper’s breath. She stammered, consumed with the desire to wound her daughter with the same amount of hurt she was now feeling.

The slam of the front door echoed through the house.

“Hello?” Bethany chimed. “I’m here.”

Oakleigh promptly gathered the mugs and whisked out of the room to greet their newest guest.

“Bethany, I’ll be right there,” she called, not bothering even a second glance at her dumb-struck mother.

Harper ran her fingers through her hair, bringing her fist down on the countertop with a loud bang that rattled the mugs in the cabinet.

If Oakleigh only knew what sacrifices I’ve made.

Harper had endured. She never had the luxury of running away and hiding like Maeve.

Perfect Maeve.

Her heart was pounding as her thoughts spiraled. Harper needed something — anything, to dull the raw emotions welling up within her.

She stood up from the island, flinging open every cabinet as she whisked around the kitchen.

“You’re not going to find anything to drink, Harp.”

She whirled to face Maeve, who dared to be standing there, calmly leaning her shoulder on the doorframe.

“Why didn’t you tell her, Maeve,” she shouted, her voice echoing across the smooth kitchen surfaces. “You told her everything that made you look good,” she choked out, flingingher hand out to accentuate her frustration. “What about the rest of it?”

Maeve paused as though she were carefully weighing her words.

---