Page 99 of Beautiful Beast

“Just out of spite,” she sputters as though I didn’t speak. “Can you believe it?”

I’ve read the will a thousand times and my mother is only mentioned to make it clear that she isn’t to receive a single penny. My grandmother even had several doctors sign off stating that she was of sound mind to avoid my mother trying to dispute the will.

Not that she can afford to take me to court.

“It sounds like you’re swimming in money,” my mother continues. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

“What my grandmother gifted to me has nothing to do with you. If you have a copy of the will, you should read it again.”

“I raised you. I sacrificed for you!” she screams.

A bitter laugh rips from my throat and is so loud that it draws the stares of passersby. “You didn’t do a damn thing for me. And you’re not getting anything from me either.”

“We need to get together and talk about this situation like two adults. I can meet you at the penthouse…”

I shudder, thoughts of seeing my mother again stirring up dark memories I’d rather forget. There is no chance she’s coming to the penthouse or being given the chance to hurt me again. As much as I think that I’ve moved on from my past, talking to her brings me right back down the rabbit hole.

“No,” I interrupt. “You thought that she’d give you the money, didn’t you? Even after everything you did, how you treated her, and even after you told me she was dead so we couldn’t have a relationship.”

“I lost the money because of you!” my mother screams. “I chose to be with your dad to give you a family, and she hated him so much.”

“With good reason. I hated him, too. He was a fucking monster, mother. But I can’t decide who was worse, the man you fucked to make me or all the ones you fucked afterward who wanted me instead.”

Only my mother can bring out the worst in me, and I hate it.

Hate her.

So. Much.

Therapy helped me become a better person and not just a girl from the wrong side of the proverbial tracks. A more well-adjusted person who isn’t defined by trauma anymore.

But contact with my mother brings it all back in a painful rush. And it’s okay to set boundaries with anyone, even family, to protect your peace.

“You’re giving me what I’m owed!” she screams. “You stupid little cunt! How dare you try to cut me off. You are such a–”

After what I endured in my childhood because of her, what she’s owed is a bullet from one of Adam’s many guns.

Instead, I hang up the phone and block her number, a final step that I wasn’t able to take before today.

Buster is glued to my side, whining anxiously. He’s always been able to pick up on my energy, and now my mood is completely spoiled. We’ve looped back to the building anyway, and I decide to head to Adam’s place instead of mine.

It’s not like he won’t be home.

He never leaves unless I make him.

But just like when we first met, he only opens the door a crack.

“Adam, seriously? We are beyond talking through doors.”

“Belle, you need to stop contacting me.”

“I’m moving. The closing date is in six months.”

“It’s for the best, princess. You’ll have a place where you can be happy, and you’ll find someone who can make you happy, too.”

I want to tell him that he makes me happy, but I already have told him dozens of times.

He doesn’t care.

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