Page 95 of Seduced By You

“We saw it on the news,” Papa said. “We got the first flight out.”

Laughter crawled into my throat where it died on my tongue. Even after all these months away from the glare of publicity that modeling had brought to my life, I still made the news.

“My baby.” Maman’s eyes drifted to the thick dressing covering the grotesque scar. She lifted her hand, then must have thought better of it. Her arm dropped back to her sides. Bitterness flooded me. She didn’t need to say a word. I could read her as easily as a large-print book. Nothing had changed. She only cared about one thing: my physical appearance.

I peeled away the sticky tape holding the dressing in place. “Here. Have a good look at my ruined face. There’s no going back to modeling now. How disappointed you must be.”

Maman’s face crumpled. “Oh, Annaleesa. Is that what you think?”

“Actions speak louder than words.” A cruel laugh spilled out of me. “Although, you said plenty of words, too.”

Her eyes glistened, and she pressed a hand to her throat. “I’m sorry for all those things I said. I was worried about you. About what you’d do if you gave up modeling.”

My throat burned with suppressed anger. I snorted. “Isn’t that peachy? Even my own mother doesn’t think me capable of anything other than looking pretty for the cameras. What was it you said? I’m not clever enough… no, not bright enough to do anything else.”

Big fat tears plopped onto her cheeks. “Darling, that isn’t—”

“You probably don’t know this, Maman, but I’ve always believed myself worthless outside of modeling. And when you said those things after I told you I wanted out, all you did was reaffirm that belief.”

“I-I… I never meant to hurt you or for you to think you couldn’t do anything you set your mind to. I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them. Not a single one.” She reached for Papa’s hand. “Tell her, Francois.”

“We’ve only ever cared about your happiness,” Papa said, his hand resting lightly on Maman’s shoulder.

“That’s a lie. If you’d only cared about my happiness, you’d have supported me in my decision. Instead, you stood by while Maman judged me and berated me.”

I shifted my gaze to her. She let out a whimper, her body shriveling in on itself.

“I want you to leave.”

“But we only just got here,” Maman exclaimed. “We want to be with you, look after you.”

“I can take care of myself.” I looked away. “I’ve managed just fine without you. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

“But—”

“Olivia, let her get some rest. She’s been through a lot.”

Papa sounded weary. He wasn’t the only one. My chest hurt, my insides felt as if someone was ripping me apart, and my eyes stung with tears that wouldn’t fall.

“We’ll be here tomorrow, ma chérie.” Papa kissed my temple. “It doesn’t matter how many times you push us away, we’ll keep coming back. There are things that need to be said, but now isn’t the time.” He picked up my hand and squeezed it. “We love you deeply. Never doubt that.”

I said nothing, simply let my hand lie limp in his. A few seconds later, the door clicked shut.

My tears came then. I wasn’t sure they’d ever stop.

* * *

True to their word, my parents visited the following day.

Kadon did not.

How could I blame him when I’d told him not to bother? All he was doing was taking me at my word, respecting my wishes. I seesawed between this fervent need to see him and a profound belief that I was better off alone. I couldn’t bear to face his reaction when he saw how badly disfigured the car accident had left me. Even if he clouded his disgust, I’d know. He couldn’t hide from me. We were too connected.

When I refused to engage in conversation with Maman and Papa, they left with the same promise they’d made yesterday. “We’ll be back tomorrow.” What they didn’t know was, if my vitals remained stable, the doctor had said they might release me in the morning. With any luck, I’d be discharged and on my way home before they arrived.

Now that they’d made the first move, the long-overdue talk would happen. But not here in this sterile, impersonal hospital with the risk of interruption by a nurse wanting to take my blood pressure or a care assistant asking if I wanted something to eat or drink.

The thought made me nauseous. I’d never handled conflict well, preferring to keep the peace. That didn’t mean I let people walk all over me. Far from it. But I always looked for consensus, common ground, a peaceful solution. I couldn’t do that anymore. It was time to put my needs first. And I needed to tell them, Maman especially, how much she’d hurt me when she’d put my modeling career ahead of my happiness.

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