Chapter 94

Lucy said nothing more, likely remembering the pain of my past ten years. A decade's dedication yields results, but mine with Hayden brought only painful lessons. Perhaps, as Lucy suggested, Hayden perceived my transformation, prompting his changed demeanor. But it no longer mattered; he was irrelevant.

After dinner with Lucy, I bypassed Rosy House, heading instead to Mother's apartment on Eastline Road. Opening the door, I encountered an eerily silent, dark, and cold space, devoid of the warmth of her presence. In the living room sat the Steinway piano she'd always longed for, a prize from an auction. I'd retrieved it, but she'd never see it.

Slowly, I touched the black and white keys, the sheet music she'd taught me surfacing in my mind. Piece after piece, I played passionately, a desperate attempt to recapture those days. Tomorrow was a holiday, a time for families, but I had none left. My father likely cared only for Sophia and his unborn son; the Jackson family had severed ties with me.

I lost track of time until aching fingertips and a vibrating phone in my bag broke my reverie. Assuming it was Hayden, I ignored it. The persistent vibration, however, annoyed me. I reluctantly answered, hoping—against all odds—for a holiday invitation from my father.

Instead, his first words were, "I've heard someone's been buying up large amounts of shares in the Jackson Group. Do you know anything about that?" His tone was stern, devoid of warmth, as if interrogating a suspect. A chill ran through me; he knew. Hayden, a scoundrel in matters of the heart, was reliable in business. He'd predicted my father's discovery, and he was right.

"I don't know anything about it," I replied, my expression unchanged.

"You don't know? Wasn't it you?" he demanded angrily. He'd found a clue. I had no choice but to deny it. "Dad, if there's nothing else, I need to get back to work."

"What work? The Jackson Group isn't some hot commodity! Who do you think you are? Wasn't what Grandpa gave you enough? Now you want to take what's mine, too!" His voice, full of fury, threatened to break.

All the Jackson Group shares should have been his. He'd initially believed they were essentially his, even if I held them. But with Sophia and his son, he wouldn't let them slip away. My grip tightened on the phone as I listened.

"What Grandpa gave me, I will protect," I finally said after a long silence.

Yosef erupted. His roar, a sound I'd never heard before, filled the phone. "If your grandpa knew I could have a son, do you really think he would have left the shares to you? You better give me back those shares, and give them to your brother!"

Frozen, I couldn't respond. Everyone knew the truth, but as long as he hadn't spoken it aloud, I could pretend. Now, it was undeniable. The Jackson family had closed its doors on me.

"My mother only had me. I don't have any brothers," I said before abruptly hanging up. Yosef's fury continued in a barrage of calls, which I silenced by switching off my phone. The ensuing silence was profound.

I slumped over the piano, reliving moments with my mother, silent tears streaming down my face. Eventually, sleep claimed me. In my dream, I was a child again. My mother was calling me to breakfast. "Yvonne, if you don't get up now, you'll be late for school!"

Her gentle voice roused me. "Mom, I'm sleepy."

"Then the meal will get cold," she replied.

I reluctantly rose, washed, and went to the dining room. We had maids, but Mom preferred to cook. It made her happy, she said. I climbed onto the table, smiling at the breakfast. She smiled back, patting my hair. "Yvonne, eat more. Grow up big and strong. And promise me one thing: Don't end up like me, falling head over heels for someone and losing yourself in love, alright?"

"What do you mean, Mommy?" I asked, tilting my head.

She explained, "It's when you forget yourself because you're so focused on loving someone else. It's the dumbest thing you can do. That's what I did, and in the end, I lost everything—my husband, my family. Yvonne, promise me... You can't be like me."

Her expression twisted, becoming frighteningly distorted. I panicked and cried. "Mom, don't talk like that. I'm scared..."

She shook me. "Yvonne, you better remember this. Don't let Joanna steal your husband, and don't let her steal your dad. Don't let her take everything from you like her mother took everything from me. Even if you have to divorce him, don't let her win!"

"Ah!" I screamed, waking up to the cold, silent piano. The breakfast, my mother's distorted face—all a dream.

Chapter 91

My mother's suicide... the hate and resentment she must have harbored…

I shook my head, trying to dismiss the dream. My phone buzzed twice. It was Lucy, a holiday greeting sent at 7 a.m., followed at 11 a.m. by a screenshot and messages:

Lucy: [OMG. This is infuriating, Joanna actually went to the Parker residence to celebrate the holiday!] Lucy: [How is she so close to that old witch? When did they start teaming up?] Lucy: [Did Hayden take her there?! That jerk. Yesterday, he was all over you, and today, he’s showing his true colors!]