“No. Monsters know what they are; you still think you’re the victim.”
That stung.
Deep down, a part of me still believed I did it all for them—for him, Dessign, and our name. But maybe that was the lie I told myself to sleep better at night.
I looked away, jaw tight. “I made mistakes,” I admitted.
He didn’t say anything.
“I… didn’t know how to be soft,” I continued. “That’s not what was handed down to me. You want to blame someone? Blame my upbringing… blame the wayIwas raised!”
“That’s your excuse? The wayyouwere raised?” he scoffed. “Then why come for Naji every time she showed emotion? Why attack her for being vulnerable when you knewexactlyhow that pain felt?”
My mouth opened, then closed. I didn’t have a good answer; only a lifetime of habits wrapped in pearls and pride.
“You didn’t like Naji because she reflected everything you tried to bury. Her tics, her honesty, her softness… it made you uncomfortable.” He stepped closer, every word laced with truth I hated hearing. “But she didn’t fold, and neither did I.”
I stared up at him, my own son—flesh of my flesh—now a man I could barely reach.
“When do I stop paying for being too much of a mother and not enough of the right kind?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Imanio looked at me for a long moment.
“When you stop pretending you did it out of love and finally admit you did it out of fear—fear of losing control, being ordinary, and of people seeing you the way you see yourself deep down. You had a son who would’ve died protecting you, and you trained him tohatehimself for feeling anything that didn’t serveyou.And when I finally started choosing myself—when Istoppedbeing your lapdog—you called it betrayal.”
I faltered. “So what now? I’m just nothing?! That’s what you want?”
“Giselle, you’ve been acting like nothing mattered but your reputation. Now you get to see what that looks like when it’s all you’re left with. Sometimes life doesn’t humble you; sometimes itstripsyou so you can start over… withtruth. You can stay bitter, you can convince yourself we’re cruel, but every dollar Pops took, every card he froze and every favor he reversed… it’s because the woman you’ve becomeneededto be broken before she broke someone else.”
My eyes watered, but he didn’t care.
I glanced around my temporary room—spacious, sterile, forgettable. My nails were still perfect. My lashes still curled. But everything beneath the surface—cracked.
“No more allowance,” he announced coldly. “No more access. No more faking like we’re family in public while you tear us down in private. And if you try to spin this like we abandoned you, just remember, you’re the one who handed us the scissors.”
“So you’re punishing me for protecting you?!” I snapped, voice shaking.
“You were never protecting me; you were protecting your image, your ego, and our name,” Imanio corrected. “The day you brought strangers to my house to try to take my wife, you didn’t just cross a line… you stepped off a cliff.”
With that, he turned to leave.
“Imanio, what am I supposed to do for clothes?” I called after him, voice high with frustration and desperation. “I can’t live in a hotel forever! Not to mention—I’m broke!”
Imanio paused at the door, hand on the knob.
Without turning around, he answered flatly, “I’ll make sure your room is paid up and that you got food to eat until I figure out what I’ma do.”
A pause.
Then he glanced back over his shoulder, eyes cold.
“But don’t mistake that for me caring.”
“Y-you’re really cutting me off?!”
He turned slightly. “Not forever. But until you remember who youusedto be; the woman who wore dignity before diamonds, made lemon cake from scratch, and hugged me when I had nightmares.”
His voice softened for the first time.