Chapter 017

**~Michelle~**

The day crept toward its end as I closed my laptop and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.

As expected, I hadn’t sketched or designed anything. The only bright spot in my day was the company's technician updating me on the progress of the device I’d submitted. At least that was something.

Jack had dropped by earlier, and I told him I was going to a family dinner. I deliberately avoided mentioning the fiasco with Jake or Hughes’s ridiculous plan. It wouldn’t end well, and Jack’s words stayed with me:

“So you’re going to get shamed and criticized again? Come on, Mich, you’re better than this.”

He wasn’t wrong. I probably should stop going to these dinners, but a stubborn part of me held onto hope—that my family might still redeem itself, that Dad might love me again like he did before, and Andrea... well.

I finally willed myself to stand, grabbed my keys and bag, and slung it over my shoulder before heading out.

When I reached my car, I held my breath, praying there wasn’t another note from my stalker. There wasn’t. Relief washed over me. There’s only so much a girl can handle in a day, and I’d already reached my limit.

The apartment felt cold when I stepped inside. Barbie had moved out months ago, and the silence still felt strange. Yesterday had been different, though—it had felt alive.

My thoughts drifted to a gray-eyed man, and I wondered if he was back from work yet. As much as I tried to deny it, his kindness this morning had melted a small part of my guarded heart.

Aside from a few close friends and my brother, no one had really supported me or my work. Well, except for someone who once feigned interest just to steal my designs. That bitter memory left a sour taste in my mouth.

In my bedroom, I dropped my bag and removed my jewelry, debating what to wear. I grabbed the first dress I saw—a simple, modest black one.

A long shower did little to wash away the weight of the day. As the evening loomed closer, I felt the ache of how quickly things had changed.

I used to look forward to these dinners. Now, I dreaded them.

After drying and straightening my hair, I tied it into a simple ponytail and applied minimal makeup. When I caught my reflection in the mirror, my lemon-green eyes stared back at me, full of resignation.

Tonight was going to hurt. I already knew that.

\---

The two-hour drive to Dad’s house felt endless. He’d moved to the outskirts of Miami after Mom passed, saying the old house brought back too many painful memories. I understood, but I still missed the home that held so much of my childhood.

As his house came into view, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. Taking a deep breath, I parked in the driveway and stepped out, bracing myself.

Before I could knock, the door flew open. Daniel stood there, grinning at me.

“Michelle!” His arms enveloped me before I could say a word.

The tension in my shoulders eased, just a little. “Hey, Dan.” I hugged him back, maybe tighter than I intended. It had been too long.

“Come in!” he said, practically bouncing as he stepped aside.

The smell of roasted chicken greeted me first, followed by Martha bustling in the kitchen. Her apron was dusted with flour, her gray hair pulled into its familiar bun.

“Martha,” I said, pulling her into a warm embrace.

She smiled, her lined face lighting up. “Michelle, it’s been too long, dear. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Thanks, Martha,” I murmured.

Daniel tugged my sleeve, leading me to the dining room. “Andrea’s not here yet. Dad’s in his room,” he said.

I nodded, my stomach twisting at the thought of facing Dad. Instead, I sat down and smoothed the fabric of my dress.

The quiet clinking of silverware and Martha’s movements filled the silence until footsteps echoed from upstairs. Dad’s deliberate steps sent a chill down my spine.

When he entered, his eyes landed on me immediately. He said nothing at first, just looked me over before his lips curled slightly.

“That’s what you decided to wear?” His tone was razor-sharp.

“Good evening to you too, Dad,” I replied, my voice laced with sarcasm as I kept my eyes on my plate. My fingers tightened on the edge of the table.

He didn’t respond, just took his seat across from me. Daniel stayed by my side, and I was grateful for that small comfort.

Andrea arrived shortly after, her heels clicking as she swept into the room. Her dress left little to the imagination, but Dad didn’t seem to mind.

“Good evening, Dad,” she said, kissing his cheek before sitting beside him. Her eyes scanned Daniel, then me.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” she said, smirking.

I stayed silent, unwilling to take the bait.

Dinner started in strained silence, broken only by the sound of clinking cutlery.

“So, how’s work, Mich?” Daniel asked, his voice warm.

I managed a small smile. “I’m working on something new, and—”

“Guess what?” Andrea interrupted, her voice saccharine. “I closed another big deal this week. My boss says I’m the best negotiator on the team.”

I rolled my eyes internally. Of course, she was the best.

Dad’s expression softened with pride. “Good job, Andrea.”

Daniel shared his own news about an upcoming school competition, and Dad smiled again. But when it was my turn, Dad raised a hand to stop me.

“No need,” he said flatly. “We all know what you’ve been up to. Honestly, designing—what is it now—sex toys? That’s hardly an achievement.”

Andrea’s laugh cut through me like a blade. “Maybe next time, she’ll bring samples,” she quipped, her eyes gleaming.

Daniel slammed his fork down. “Andrea, stop it.”

But she didn’t, and Dad didn’t intervene.

I focused on my plate, pretending his dismissal didn’t hurt, though my appetite vanished.

“That was harsh,” Daniel whispered, his voice low with concern.

I shrugged, feigning indifference. “I’m used to it.”

But neither of us believed that.

When I finally pushed my chair back, the room froze. Dad paused mid-bite, watching me for a moment before returning to his food. Andrea’s eyes lit up, ready to pounce with another comment, but I cut her off.

“Goodnight, Daniel.” I hugged him tightly, ignoring the guilt in his eyes.

“I’ll walk you out—”

“It’s okay,” I said, forcing a thin smile. After saying goodbye to Martha, I stepped into the cool night air.

As I walked to my car, wrapping my arms around myself, my thoughts drifted to Mom.

I rarely let myself think about her. But tonight, for the second time, I wished she were here.