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Mom’s defenses falter as uncertainty seeps into her demeanor. “You have zero evidence,” she barks, her voice betraying a hint of desperation.
Sebastian, latching on to the momentum that we’re building, gives her no time to catch her breath. “We have people ready to testify against you, Margaret. Give it up. You’re done.”
Her eyes dart between the three of us, sharp with defiance. “Who?” she demands, her composure fraying at the edges. When no one answers her, her expression changes, disbelief taking over as she glances between me and Alex. The truth hits her like a thunderclap. “No. Absolutely not. I refuse to believe it. You both wouldn’t go as far as incriminating your poor mother for a crime she didn’t commit, would you?”
“There’s nothing poor about you, Mom,” I snap, the words dripping with bitterness. “And God knows if you are truly the person who gave the order to place the bomb in the car or not. If you’re guilty, I doubt that you would dirty your hands committing the crime directly, but that matters very little in the long run.”
“Julia is right,” Sebastian rumbles, and I can hear the promise of victory in his tone. We are almost there, I can feel it. “You might think you can go ahead and tell Karl something only my father and I should have the right to tell him about, but if you do, you’re going to pay a higher price than you could ever imagine. Not only will you lose your good name, but also your reputation. And finally, your two oldest children will turn against you publicly.”
I see my mother raise her hand and lay it over her heart, almost unconsciously.
“Alex?” Mom breaks the silence that follows Sebastian’s devastating speech, eyes searching her older son’s face for some sign of reassurance.
Alex takes a deep breath, a momentary pause before he finds his voice. “Sorry, Mom,” he begins, almost apologetic as she shrugs. “I actually like Sebastian, so...yeah. I actually think they make a fine couple, and if you could let go of your pride, maybe you’d see the same thing.”
Alex’s words make my chest feel tight, warmth suffusing me. His support is everything to me in this moment.
There's a flicker of hesitation in my mother’s eyes, a fleeting battle between her desires and the acceptance of reality. With a sigh, she finally concedes, her words tinged with resignation. “Julia, you are an adult,” she states, her lip curling like saying the words disgusts her. “You can elope if you want to. I see now that I can’t stop you from making stupid mistakes anymore; I can only warn you against them. But let me tell you something.” She pauses, studying my reaction, searching for any signs of doubt or hesitation. “One day, in the near or distant future,” she continues, softer now, her index finger pointing out. “You will be in the same place that I am right now. Maybe not in your twenties, or thirties, but mark my words, eventually you will be. When that moment comes, I will be here for you because that’s what mothers do. We do all that we can to help, even when our children are being idiots. And trust me, my dear, your children will have moments of idiocy, just like mine.”
With her piece said, Mom sweeps out of the petit salon, turning so quickly that her skirt flares out behind her. I stand there, my mind buzzing with thoughts and feelings, as I process that the confrontation is well and truly over. It’s done, and she saidelope if I want to. Can this be real? Will she really not interfere? The room feels both empty and full with her gone. I hate that this ended on such a sour note, but I think it was always destined to.
“I have to follow her,” I tell the two men, giving them an apologetic look. “Wait here.”
I quickly follow my mother, my heart pounding in my chest. She might think that I’m an idiot, and she might hate the idea of me marrying Seb still, but I can’t let her walk away without addressing the one question burning within me.
I don’t catch up with her until we reach the garden, the scent of the flowers incredibly sweet on the breeze.
“Mom! Wait!” I call out, my voice filled with urgency.
Mom pauses in her tracks, her figure poised and rigid. She turns slowly and her gaze meets mine, weariness plastered all over her face. She looks…defeated. Like she isn’t used to losing. Despite all of that, I know that she did all of this out of love, no matter how horrible her actions may or may not have been. And if she still loves me, her daughter, then there is still hope for our entire family.
“What else do you want, Julia?" she asks, her words full of resignation.
My words come out in a rush, the intensity of my emotions propelling me forward. “Everything you said back there…does that mean if I get married, you won’t tell Karl anything? You won’t tell him that he’s Sebastian’s brother?”
A flicker of something undefinable passes through Mom’s expression, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability.
She seems to weigh her response carefully, contemplating the consequences of her actions. “I won’t, no,” she finally replies with a note of sincerity. “I have no interest in my two oldest children testifying against me in a court of law. You and I both know that we would never recover in the eyes of the public, and the case would follow us for the rest of our lives. So no, I won’t tell the bastard, even if I honestly feel likesomeoneshould, so you and your boyfriend can rest easy.”
Her sarcastic tone makes my cheeks flush with embarrassment, but I don’t back down, even when her confirmation makes my knees weak with relief. The secret of Karl’s lineage will remain under lock and key. But there’s one more request I need to make, one more bridge I want to build between us.
“Is that all?” she huffs, and I shake my head.
“One more thing, Mom.” I summon my courage and speak. “If I get married…I mean, if Sebastian and I get married…would you still attend the ceremony? You’ve made it very clear that you don’t agree with my choice in men, but…it would mean a lot to me if you do. Really, it would be everything to me, Mom.”
Silence hangs in the air, and I even hold my breath with anticipation. Mom’s gaze intensifies, searching my face for any signs of deception or hidden agendas. She ponders my words, her brow furrowing in deep thought. A heavy sigh escapes her lips, carrying the weight of her disapproval and the corner that I’ve backed her into. And if I’m not mistaken, notes of the love that she still has for me and all her children.
“I shall think about it,” she finally responds, unmoved. “I will make no promises.”
My heart swells. It's not a definite yes, but it’s not a rejection either. In this delicate moment, I can’t help but embrace Mom tightly, the barriers between us momentarily crumbling. “Thank you so much for this,” I whisper with sincerity. “I know how much it cost you, Mom, but thank you.”
A glimmer of a smile dances on her lips, a small acknowledgment of our fragile truce. “If I come,” she warns, her tone firm. “Don’t you dare go inviting your father.”
A surge of understanding courses through me, the reminder of the intricate dance between my parents and the secrets they hold. “Of course not,” I assure her, gripping her hands in mine. “I won’t. I know perfectly the deal you made with him.”
My mother nods, a subtle acceptance of my words. “Good. At least you listen to me when it comes to some things.”
In this fleeting moment, the bridge between us extends a little further, fragile but present. It’s not a complete reconciliation, but it’s a step forward.
