Page 88 of Twisted Vows

Just like she always is.

The only sign that she doesn’t quite belong here is the way her gaze flicks over the room, taking in the space like an enemy’s battlefield.

She looks up when I stop in the doorway.

“To what do I owe this visit, Ma?” I keep my voice cool, even.

A long pause. Then, the faintest tilt of her head. “You look well.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I suppose the rumors about a tear in the space-time continuum are true.”

Her lips press together, and for the first time, something almost like hesitation flickers in her expression.

“I heard what happened.” She sets her cup down with a delicate clink. “I wanted to see if you were injured.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “The sudden concern is out of character.”

To my shock, she doesn’t deny it. She just exhales softly, her gaze sharpening. “I showed you love the only way I knew how.”

Something about those words sinks under my ribs, settling there. Love. She calls it love. The coldness. The expectations. The relentless, sharp-edged lessons.

I should scoff. I should let it roll off me like water on glass.

But instead, I stare at her, reallylookat her. At the fine lines etched around her mouth. The exhaustion she hides well but not perfectly. The way she grips her own wrist—an unconscious tic, one I recognize from childhood, when the weight of my father’s expectations pressed down on her, too.

And I accept for the first time that she never knew how to love me any differently.

She thoughtshe was making me strong.

She didn’t realize I was already unbreakable.

“I was wrong about you,” she says finally. “You are much stronger than I could ever be.”

The words are not an apology. But they are something. A small truce. A piece of understanding between two women who have both spent their lives trying to survive the world that made them.

“Power is never stable,” she continues, her voice softer now. “So now is the time to decide what kind of life you want before someone else decides for you.”

I hold her gaze, then nod once. “I plan on doing just that.”

Ma studies me for another long moment. Then, in true fashion, she rises, smooths out the front of her blazer, and heads for the door.

No embrace. No drawn-out goodbye. Just an understanding.

And for the first time, that’s enough.

Later that afternoon, I head toward the gym at the end of the garden, letting the crisp air clear my thoughts.

I don’t hear footsteps at first.

But I hearthem.

The unmistakable sound of paws on stone, a quiet huff of breath, the soft jingle of metal tags.

I stop in my tracks as Pasha appears at the edge of the path, two large German Shepherds at his side.

I blink. “What—?”

“Boss says these are yours now.” Pasha extends two leashes, his face unreadable as always. “For protection.”

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