Chapter 15
Diane requested to speak with me alone.
Requested.
Not asked.
Even stripped of power, she couldn’t quite surrender command.
She sat beside the window.
No pearls.
No signet ring.
No audience.
“You won.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Don’t pretend humility.”
“Daniel is dead.”
Silence.
“Connor lost six years with his father.”
No response.
“Grace was afraid to eat unless you allowed it.”
“She ate.”
I almost smiled.
There was no reaching her through guilt.
Only truth.
“You believe everything you did was necessary.”
“Yes.”
Finally.
Clean honesty.
“Daniel?”
“He would have taken you from me.”
“Michael?”
“He would have taken Sabrina.”
“Grace?”
“She made you irrational.”
“Connor?”
“He needed discipline.”
“Bella?”
Diane paused.
“She learned faster.”
That sentence hurt more than I expected.
Bella had survived by becoming quiet.
Invisible.
Useful.
I sat opposite my mother.
“You didn’t raise strong daughters.”
Her face hardened.
“You raised daughters who studied your moods.”
“I made you survivors.”
“You made us afraid.”
“Same result.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You still think obedience is love.”
“It is loyalty.”
“No.”
“Then define loyalty.”
“Choosing someone when they are free to leave.”
For once, Diane had no immediate answer.
Then she laughed.
“Daniel taught you that.”
“Yes.”
Her face twisted.
“Even dead, you choose him.”
“Yes.”
“And Grace.”
“Yes.”
“Over me?”
“Yes.”
Immediate.
Uncomplicated.
She flinched.
“After everything I gave you.”
“I don’t need my daughter to owe me.”
Silence.
That was the difference.
Diane gave so she could collect.
Love.
Fear.
Gratitude.
Control.
I stood.
Two guards waited outside.
“Where am I going?”
“North house.”
“For how long?”
“Until I decide.”
She smiled bitterly.
“You sound like me.”
“No.”
I opened the door.
May you like
“You would have said forever.”
For the first time, Diane Whitfield left a room because someone else decided the conversation was over.
