Chapter 50 050
EMILY
I walked toward the intimidating woman sitting straighter than anything I had ever seen in my life.
Cecilia did not fidget. She did not shift in her chair or glance around like a normal person waiting for someone. She sat perfectly still, spine straight, shoulders squared, one manicured hand resting beside a delicate teacup like it was part of a carefully curated photograph.
She was as friendly as she was intimidating. The kind of woman who could make you feel underdressed just by breathing in the same room as her, but still make you cookies in her kitchen.
The café she had chosen did not help. It was upscale in a quiet, expensive way. Soft lighting. Neutral colors. Chairs that probably cost more than my monthly grocery bill.
I hated it instantly.
Every step toward her table made my chest tighten. My eyes burned from crying. My head throbbed. I was running on fumes and raw emotion, and Cecilia sat there looking like she had all the time in the world.
When I got close enough, I forced the word out of my mouth. “Hi, Cecilia.”
She did not stand. Did not smile. She barely acknowledged me at all. She simply lifted her gaze from her teacup and gave a small nod.
“Sit.”
The single word landed heavy, like an order.
I pulled the chair across from her and sat down. My hands were shaking, so I folded them tightly in my lap and pressed my fingers together, hoping the pressure would keep them still. I refused to let her see how much this was affecting me.
She took another slow sip of her tea, her eyes never leaving mine. It felt deliberate. Like she was measuring me. Testing how long it would take before I cracked.
“I hope you don’t mind the fact that I started before you,” she said calmly.
I shook my head. “It’s fine.”
“Good.”
Another sip.
The silence stretched, thin and uncomfortable. I could hear the hum of quiet conversations around us, the clink of cups, the soft hiss of the espresso machine behind the counter. Cecilia seemed perfectly content to let me sit there and stew.
I sighed. Loud. Tired. I did not bother hiding it. If she wanted to see how worn down I was, she could have the full picture.
Her lips curved into a tiny smirk, barely there, like my impatience was exactly what she had been waiting for.
“About our discussion at the hospital,” she said finally, setting her cup down with infuriating care.
Dread flooded me instantly. My stomach dropped. My shoulders stiffened. “What discussion is that?”
She scoffed. “Don’t act stupid, Emily. It doesn’t fit you.”
My jaw tightened. I shrugged. “If you don’t talk in clear sentences, there’s no way I would understand you, Cecilia.”
Her eyes flashed, but she kept her composure. She placed the teacup back onto its saucer with a soft clink. “About my granddaughter’s full custody.”
“Save it.”
The word came out sharper than I intended, but I did not regret it. Not even for a second.
She looked surprised. Actually surprised. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, her lips parting like no one had ever dared interrupt her before. The moment lasted only a second before she masked it, but I saw it. And it fueled something hot and furious in my chest.
I leaned forward, my voice low but steady. “That thing that’s about to get out of your mouth should better hang there, Cecilia. How dare you? How dare you try to take my child from me?”
Her face went red instantly. Not flushed with embarrassment, but with anger. Pure, contained rage. My voice had risen without me realizing it, loud enough that a few heads turned in our direction. I felt their stares. I did not care.
She glanced around the café, her jaw tightening. Then she leaned forward slightly and hissed, “Look, we better talk like civilized beings.”
I shook my head, laughter bubbling up, bitter and humorless. “I’m done talking with you people. Your son left me—”
“Because of your infidelity,” she cut in sharply.
The words hit like a slap.
I closed my eyes for a second and inhaled slowly through my nose. The sting was familiar. Old. Worn thin from overuse. When I opened my eyes again, my voice was calmer, but there was steel in it now.
“Fine,” I said. “I agree. It was because of my infidelity. But he left anyway. And he came back after three years. I allowed him to spend time with his kid because I felt he had missed a lot.” My hands curled into fists in my lap. “But you trying to overuse that opportunity? That I won’t stand for.”
I pushed my chair back and stood up, my movements abrupt enough to draw attention again. I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. My heart was racing, my chest tight, but I felt lighter standing instead of sitting under her scrutiny.
She did not move.
She simply watched me with those cold, assessing eyes, like this was all unfolding exactly as she expected.
“I’ll pay you,” she said calmly.
I froze.
Slowly, I turned back to face her. “Are you that desperate?”
She shrugged, elegant even in the gesture. “My son got attached to you. So attached that I had to take you in as my daughter.” Her lips thinned. “But you broke his heart. He was in pain. I won’t watch you do the same to my granddaughter.”
Before I could respond, before I could unleash everything burning in my chest, she stood. She picked up her bag, straightened her coat, and walked away.
Just like that.
No goodbye. No acknowledgment. No room for rebuttal.
She just had to have the last word.
I stood there for a few seconds, staring after her, my body buzzing with anger and disbelief. Then my legs gave out, and I dropped back into the chair.
I sat my ass back down.
Rubbed my forehead.
Closed my eyes.
Yes, Ryan came from a wealthy home. Everyone knew that. But he had left them. Walked away from their money, their expectations, their perfect little world to build something for himself. I had been proud of him for that. Fiercely proud. I had loved that part of him, the independence, the stubborn need to do things his own way.
But I guess Cecilia never forgave me for being the reason he walked away and for breaking his heart.
Never forgave me for not fitting into the image she had crafted for his life.
My throat tightened. Tears burned behind my eyes again, threatening to spill no matter how hard I blinked them back. I stared down at the table, at the untouched cup of coffee in front of me that I no longer wanted.
I felt small. Exhausted. Worn thin by a day that refused to stop taking from me.
“Is this seat taken?” a voice said behind me.
I stiffened.
Slowly, I turned around.