Chapter 66: Laura Shows Up

Cora slipped into her mother’s room with takeout in hand and found her sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.

“Mom…” Cora set the bags on the table. “You must be starving. Lunch was a mess—eat a little first.”

“Tell me the truth,” her mother asked softly. “Did something happen?”

Cora forced a small smile. “Eat first. It’s late—why didn’t you order room service? I told you the hotel can—” She cut herself off and blurted, “Can I sleep here tonight? I’ve missed this.”

“Jule…” Her mother hesitated.

“He’s fine with it,” Cora said quickly. “I’m married now; I can’t come home whenever I want. He said to stay with you. Dad called—Grandma pulled him back to the house. He won’t be here tonight.”

She hadn’t known where he’d really gone, but for once the lie matched reality.

At that, a tiny tremor crossed her mother’s face. Ever since the wedding, she’d felt her husband was hiding something. He’d begun “dressing up,” finding reasons to be out, leaving the chores to her. But she wouldn’t let any of that land on her daughter’s shoulders—especially not now, not with a baby on the way.

“Good,” her mother said, squeezing Cora’s hand. The skin was soft, uncalloused. At least she’s being taken care of.

They ate in a hush full of unsaid things—both of them smiling, both of them pretending not to notice the pretending.

—

Across town, Laura arrived in Lindon City, pouting artfully while a cousin’s friend dropped her off. She’d powdered, painted, and poured herself into a dress that squeaked when she breathed. The moment she heard Julian will pick you up, her imagination sprinted: dinner somewhere expensive, shopping with black cards, a private elevator, rumpled sheets—

“Are you Laura?” a nasal voice snapped. “Laura! Hey!”

She blinked. The man in front of her had a pinched face and a goatee like three weed stalks. Definitely not Julian. Not even close.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Driver,” he said, already annoyed. “Your ride was paid for. If you don’t trust me, call and confirm.”

“My brother-in-law is coming himself,” she sniffed.

He shrugged. “Then tell the guy who hired me I’m leaving.”

He turned so decisively that Laura’s stomach flipped. What if Julian really sent him? “Wait. Who hired you?”

He showed her a photo. Austin, young and baby-faced, stared up from the screen.

Laura ground her teeth. So the puppy thought he could downgrade me to a random car and get away with it? Just wait till I replace Cora. I’ll have him fetching coffee and apologizing for breathing.

She climbed in and let the driver dump her at the hotel. Staff met her with a keycard and a bland smile, escorted her to a room—and vanished. Every question she asked hit a polite wall.

Laura stared at the door. She didn’t know which floor Julian was on. She couldn’t exactly knock on every suite like a door-to-door calamity.

For now, the hotel had done enough. She was parked and forgotten.

—

Cora and her mother ate in small bites. Cora kept searching for a beginning and finding none, until her mother gently reached back in time.

“It’s all so fast,” her mother murmured. “I look at you and still see the baby I carried home.” She held her hands apart, the size of a loaf of bread. “Twenty-three years of blinking.”

“Mom…” Cora’s throat cinched. Her mother almost never spoke about the past. Why now?

“There’s something I’ve wanted to ask, but I never dared,” her mother said. “You’re grown. Have you ever wanted to find your birth parents?”

“Why would I?” Cora answered without thinking. “They left me. If they cared, they would’ve come back. I have one mother. You.”

Her mother’s eyes warmed, but she shook her head. “Just listen. You weren’t abandoned on purpose.” She drew a breath. “There was a wreck. You were thrown from the car, caught in a tree. When I found you, you were barely breathing. I took you home.”

Cora swallowed. “That doesn’t change anything. They never came.”

She broke off, forcing the conversation away before grief unspooled. “Mom… all these years, you never tried to see a doctor about… about not having children?”

Her mother’s smile was thin and brave. “Because I’m healthy.”

Cora stared. “What?”

“It isn’t me,” her mother said quietly. “It’s your dad. He can’t have children.” She caught Cora’s hand, urgent now. “No one knows. Not even your grandmother. If people heard, they’d tear him down. Promise me you won’t say a word.”

The room tilted. Dad. The man shamelessly shopping for a womb…Dad couldn’t father a child at all.

Irony struck like a slap—hot, stinging, almost funny if it weren’t so cruel. For years, Grandma had spit barren hen at the only person who’d kept this family from falling apart. If she knew…

Cora’s breath sawed in and out. Fury flared, then settled into something colder. This isn’t just ugly. It’s a weapon.

She looked at her mother—at the tenderness and the tiredness and the unshakeable dignity. I will not let them use you up and throw you away.

“Okay,” Cora whispered, steadying. “I won’t say anything you don’t want me to.”

She squeezed her mother’s fingers and held on, already rearranging the battlefield in her mind.