Page 62 of Lush

Mama raised a brow. “I won’t have you sabotaging my wedding.”

“Yourwedding?” I scoffed. “I’m just the broodmare?”

“Don’t start with me, Laurene.”

“Lu, baby, let’s not go there tonight,” Daddy said.

“No. We’re not gonna pretend like usual, Daddy,” I bit out, my voice raw. “It was about Mama. She doesn’t give a damn about me. Never did. And you know it.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You think you’d have the life you do if I didn’t protect it at all costs?”

“Protect it from what?” I shot back. “From people finding out we’re human? ThatGrandpamade mistakes? Daddy, are you gonna sit here and let her keep doing this?”

“I wish you would stop bringing up your grandfather?—”

“And I wish you would get help.”

“Your grandfather almost ruined our foundation,” Mama said. “I had to step in and make sure it didn’t all fall apart.”

“You’re crazy!” I said. “Grandpa was eighty-three, Mama. He ran King Enterprises for nearly sixty years. What happened before he died wasn’t him—it was the sickness. He deserved better than being forced into that home that killed him. You didn’t know how to handle your grief, and you went from our mother to our drill sergeant.”

She never grieved him. Not really. She channeled her grief for him into becoming stronger and more demanding. But grief doesn’t disappear just because you ignore it. It festered. It twisted. And I saw it in her—in the sharpness of her voice, in the way she worked herself to the bone, in the way she wouldn’t let herself rest. She thought if she stopped, even for a second, it’d all catch up to her.

“Laurene,” Dad warned me, but I ignored it.

“I’m the one keeping this family afloat!” Mama snapped. “I had to rebuild everything from the ground up while the rest of you were too busy mourning or, in your case, running away.”

“I didn’t run off,” I mumbled, still bitter. “I left because I couldn’t breathe here.Because of you.”

“Do you think I enjoy making these decisions? Forcing you into situations that hurt? It’s called sacrifice, Laurene.”

She thought she was honoring Grandpa. Carrying on his legacy. But legacies shouldn’t cost you your soul. I thought if Grandpa Ben were here, if he could see what she’d become, he’d tell her to stop. To breathe.

Daddy shifted uncomfortably, but he didn’t intervene this time. His silence made my anxiety worse.

“I’ll be damned if I let this family fall apart. The world doesn’t care anymore about what we’ve built, about the power we’ve held for so long. And whether you like it or not, this is what the family needs.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “No, you need that.”

“I’ve given my fucking all to this family, and you’re not grateful!”

I loved her. Even after everything, I loved her. And that’s why it hurt so much. Because I didn’t just want her to be powerful. I wanted her to be okay.

“At what point do I stop being an asset and become your daughter? When Erik putsyouin a home?”

“Laurene, cut it out,” Dad finally said.

“The way you’ve been since Grandpa passed…”

“What the hell do you even know?” Mama stood, her chair falling. “The nights I spent wiping my own father’s ass, watching him not remember who I was, begging people to keep quiet, praying that our empire wouldn’t crumble before our eyes. Don’t you dare stand there and judge me.”

“You won’t admit it, will you? That maybe—just maybe—you could’ve saved him. That if you’d tried harder, if you’d kepthim home instead of locking him away in that cold, sterile facility, he might’ve had more time. But you saw your chance and took it. You signed the papers, handed him over, and never looked back. You threw your own father away, and now this family is your guilt.”

Mama’s angry hand shot up; I braced myself.

“Yvonne!” Daddy’s voice cut through the room like a whip as he grabbed her wrist.

She was frozen stiff, breathing hard, her eyes wild with anger and pain.

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