Chapter 4: The Mother’s Ultimatum

But before I could do that, at dawn, Mrs. Carter showed up—with Mason in tow.

Their arrival was sudden, the kind that made the windows rattle and the dogs bark. I watched from behind the curtain as Mrs. Carter marched up the steps, Mason trailing after her, shoulders hunched, eyes clouded with worry.

I could refuse to see Mason, but not her. After all, she’d filled the void my mom left behind. So I told the manager to let them in, brewed tea and set out pie myself, and got a generous gift ready—determined to clear things up and avoid disaster by giving away some money. My hands shook as I poured the tea, but I kept going.

I smoothed the tablecloth, lined up the silverware, and tried to steady my breathing. The pie sat in the middle, a peace offering that felt more like a last meal. My lines ran through my head on repeat. Don’t mess this up, Lila.

I thought Mrs. Carter would be reasonable. Even if she couldn’t accept me breaking off the engagement, I didn’t think she’d go nuclear. But in the end, she acted just like Mason—maybe worse.

She swept all the cash and jewelry I’d set out onto the floor, pointed at me, and cursed me for being heartless and doomed to die alone. Her voice cracked like a whip, her eyes wild. The jewelry scattered, catching the sun, glittering like broken promises. I felt every word like a slap.

"You ungrateful brat, Lila Langley! How did your father raise you, to turn out so thankless? Your engagement to Mason was set by both families—how can you just refuse to marry him? So what if your family is rich? If Mason’s dad hadn’t saved yours, would your father ever have gotten to where he was? If you won’t marry, then give up half your estate as compensation. Otherwise, you must marry!"

Her words echoed off the high ceilings, bouncing around the room like angry ghosts. I stared at the floor, fists clenched, fighting the urge to bolt. This was getting ugly fast.

She said she was dying anyway, and wouldn’t rest until she got what her son deserved. The threat hung in the air, heavy and mean.

Mrs. Carter raged on, while I stood frozen, stunned, and then just overwhelmed. My eyes stung. I looked down, blinking hard, and suddenly caught sight of the scar on the back of my left hand.

It was a thin white line, almost invisible now, but I knew exactly how it got there. A rush of memories hit—sharp, bittersweet. I sucked in a breath, fighting to keep it together.

All at once, old memories crashed over me.

It was before my sweet sixteen. Mrs. Carter insisted I sew a heart-shaped sachet as a birthday gift for Mason. Even though we’d always gotten along, a sachet felt way too personal, and I was uncomfortable. But I didn’t want to upset her, so I suggested I’d pick the fabric and colors, and she could sew the good-luck pattern. That way, my feelings would still be there, but I wouldn’t have to cross a line.

Mrs. Carter looked annoyed but let it go. Still, while cutting fabric, she "accidentally" sliced the back of my hand. Blood welled up, and I cried. She just slapped a home remedy on it and told me not to tell my dad, or he’d blame her and ban me from visiting. I didn’t see through her then.

I was too young to see what was really going on. Now, looking back, I realized she’d shown no guilt at all—just annoyance that I wouldn’t do what she wanted. She’d wanted to teach me a lesson.

And all those things she’d said while teaching me—just to keep me humble and teach me to depend on a man, to put my husband first, to always serve his needs. If not for the engagement, I might have believed she really thought of me as a daughter. But really, she just wanted to mold me into her ideal daughter-in-law as soon as possible.

Before, she’d at least pretended to be kind. Now that I wanted out, she didn’t even bother to hide it anymore.

Since that was the case, I saw no reason to show her any more respect. I bit back tears, and when I looked up, my gaze was sharp as glass. I was done playing nice.

"You know my father is gone. This estate is mine now. My marriage is my own business—if I say I won’t marry, then I won’t. If you want, take it to court and see if a judge will order me to give you half my inheritance."

My voice was steady, but my hands trembled behind my back. I watched her face twist with rage, but I stared right back. The staff moved quickly, scooping up the cash and jewelry, making sure nothing was left for her to grab.