Chapter 45 Madeline #2
I stared at the linen. It blurred as tears dropped, darkening the fabric in uneven circles.
“Look at me, Madeline.” Her tone softened.
My head lifted automatically.
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “Sweetheart, you are becoming the girl people whisper about. The one who shows so much potential yet never delivers. Everyone wonders why.”
My throat closed. Tears slid faster before I could swipe them away.
“And now you cry,” she sighed. “Again. As if tears mean anything to anyone.”
My father reached for my hand again.
“Do you know what every other dynasty wife asked me last night?”
She didn’t wait for an answer.
“They asked why our daughter still has no prospects. Why she floats around the edges of every event as if she doesn’t understand her place.”
My breath hitched.
“Oh, don’t make that face. You know it’s the truth.”
My father’s jaw tightened. “Massie—enough.”
“I’m merely sharing what they ask me.” She shrugged. “Should I lie to her? Should I pretend she isn’t falling behind everyone else?”
The tears wouldn’t stop now. I let them fall. It was too exhausting to keep catching them.
You’re boring. Plain. No one will want you.
Vince’s voice overlapped with hers again—You’re too much work. I don’t want you.
“You need to toughen up. Nobody wants a girl whose only interest is to stare at a screen.”
Grief rose in my throat, thick and choking.
“Honestly, I never imagined you’d be this sensitive. Not with the amount we invested in you.”
“Invested?” I repeated quietly.
“Yes. Education. Etiquette. Wardrobe. Connections. Everything you needed to succeed. Yet you sit here acting like the victim of a life we crafted for you.”
The glass trembled in my hand.
She gave me one last critical sweep. “You really should fix your face. Tears do nothing flattering for your complexion.”
Another drop fell, hitting the tablecloth.
My father swallowed. “Madeline… are you sure nothing happened today?”
He knew. Or at least sensed that today wasn’t like the others. Normally, I could take her corrections, fold them into the same box, lock it. Tonight. I did not have the strength.
“Something always happens in that dramatic mind of hers. Everything becomes a catastrophe. A wound she carries like a badge.”
“She’s spiraling,” my father said.
“She’s indulging herself,” my mother countered. “There’s a difference.”
My pulse thudded in my ears.
“People wonder if something is wrong with you,” she added. “Sometimes I wonder the same.”
The tears came harder, hot and endless.
“How long will you cry tonight? Will it be another hour? Two? You’re exhausting to manage when you get into these moods.” she asked pleasantly.
My father’s hand shook as he reached for his napkin. “She needs help, Massie. Real help. Doctors have said—”
“Oh, here we go again.” She groaned. “You always bring up doctors. Every minor issue becomes a medical tragedy in your eyes. She’s not sick. She’s spoiled.”
She tilted her head, studying me like a painting she didn’t like. “And now you’re zoning out again. God, Madeline, if you’re not staring into space, you’re hiding upstairs watching those awful reality shows. Hours of them. It’s embarrassing.”
Heat crawled up my neck.
“You’re twenty,” she went on. “Twenty. And your idea of a social life is binge-watching strangers argue on television. No friends. No dinner invites. No functions outside work. Why does no one want to spend time with you? Where did I go wrong? And then we wonder why no one is lining up to marry you.”
My father put his fork down. “Massie—”
She raised her hand. “No. Someone has to say it. She does nothing but sink into the sofa with that television on. She has no friends, Marco. And somehow I’m the villain for pointing it out.”
The shame burned hot and deep. She was right; I didn’t have anyone to call tonight. No one but the man who’d already decided I was too much effort.
“Madeline works harder than any twenty-year-old we know. She’s respected in boardrooms full of men who don’t give respect easily. You know that.”
“But what good is being respected if she can’t keep a man interested in the bedroom? She’d probably force the poor thing to sit there and watch those dreadful shows with her. That alone would send him running for the hills once he sees how boring and plain she is.”
Something in me tore clean down the center. Because that was what I did to Vince. I forced him to watch my shows. He faked interest. Last night, he watched for hours with me on his chest. I even had the follow up episode paused for him today.
My vision blurred completely. I am such a loser. He didn’t want to watch my shows. He had two days to fuck me as much as possible, and then two weeks to withdraw from me.
How…how did I not see how pathetic I was?
“Oh, look, now she’s crying again. Honestly, Madeline, you make everything into a tragedy.”
“Massie. Enough,” my father snapped.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m just being honest.”
“No. You’re being cruel.”
Her mouth fell open, wounded. “Cruel? Me? I do everything for this family. I am the one who keeps our reputation pristine. And now I’m cruel because she can’t handle reality?”
“You humiliated her at the table. You called her boring. Plain. Do you hear yourself?”
“Oh, so now she has you wrapped around her finger too?” she snapped. “Wonderful. I’m the villain again. I’m always the villain.”
“She’s our daughter. You don’t speak to her like that. The amount of money Madeline makes for our Dynasty, she deserves respect at the table.”
“And if no male wants her? Then what? Our blood is wasted?”
“A man will want her. If not for her social skills, her blood. If not for her blood, then legacy rights that come with her name.”
The slight hitch of desperation in his voice, even made me flinch. A man will want me. I wanted to scoff. I’d given a man everything. There was not one part of me, he hadn’t had. It wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t enough.
She slowly pushed back from the table, napkin thrown down. “I can’t believe this. I am breaking my back for this family, and all I get in return is attacks, accusations, and”—she flung a hand toward me—“her crying. Like I haven’t sacrificed my entire life for her future.”
“You’re turning this into something it’s not,” he said tiredly.
“No. I’m realizing no one appreciates me. I am the one who gets painted as heartless because I actually care about her prospects.”
“You crossed a line,”
She flinched like he’d struck her. “I crossed a line? I’m done. I can’t do this. Not tonight. You all hate me.”
She spun away from the table and left the room.
My father exhaled hard and followed without another word, like he always did.
The silence that settled in their absence felt heavier than their voices.
I stared at their empty chairs. Then I lifted my glass with shaky fingers and tipped back the last of the wine.