Chapter 58 - Melanie #2
She looked around the busy restaurant. “That’s what I’m here to tell you. But I don’t want to interrupt you while you’re working. I can come back.”
“No.” I reached for her hand. It was cold, trembling. “I’ll get you something to eat. If you don’t mind waiting until the rush dies down, we can talk.” I hesitated. “It might be a couple of hours. You’ll have to wait outside or in your car—we have a waitlist, so I can’t let you sit here.”
She nodded, staring at her hands like she wasn’t seeing them.
I wanted to be angry. I tried to hold on to the resentment, to the years she spent believing Richard over me. But looking at her now, fragile yet trying so damn hard to hold herself together, I knew I couldn’t.
“I don’t mind waiting,” she whispered.
I stood. “I’ll bring out some bread with a chicken Caesar salad, okay?”
She nodded. I turned to go, but her voice stopped me.
“Actually… I wouldn’t mind trying your pasta.” Her lips pressed together like she was steeling herself. “I was too drunk to eat it last time, so…”
I froze. The words hung between us, heavy, fragile.
She fumbled with her purse. “I’ll pay for it. I don’t expect—”
“Don’t worry about it.” My throat tightened. “I’ll have Mario whip up something for you.”
She gave me a small nod, and I walked away, my heart pounding in my chest.
It was almost nine when I finally had a chance to talk to my mom.
A part of me hoped she had gotten cold feet, called an Uber, and left.
I wasn’t sure I was ready for whatever she had to say.
If this was some desperate attempt to convince me to come home, she was wasting her time.
No matter how much I missed her, I would never go back.
The night air was sharp, cutting through my clothes as I stepped outside and slipped on my jacket.
My mom sat at one of the white patio tables, staring into the distance, lost in thought.
The dim lighting cast shadows on her face, making it hard to tell if her eyes were puffy from crying or sheer exhaustion.
I swallowed hard and took a seat beside her. “Hey.” I forced a small smile. “Thanks for waiting.”
She glanced at me, offering a weak smile before turning her gaze back to the parking lot.
Silence stretched between us, thick and uncertain.
Finally, I cleared my throat. “So… what did you want to talk about?”
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I signed the divorce papers.”
The words slammed into me. My stomach dropped.
“You… what?” My mind scrambled to catch up. “But I—”
She shook her head, cutting me off. “The night we got back, I just knew. Something felt different. For the first time, I could see that house clearly for what it was. It felt wrong—eerie, empty. Without you there, it was like I was standing in a stranger’s mansion.
” She exhaled shakily. “So I started digging. I tracked down the women—every single one who accused Richard.”
A chill ran through me. “You did?”
She nodded. “All six of them. And they all had the same story.” Her hands trembled as she spoke.
“They went to audition for a role in one of Richard’s films. And afterward…
nothing. They blacked out. Woke up in a taxi with no memory of what happened.
Three girls said when they woke their buttonholes ached and the other three girls said they were sore down there and found bruises all over their bodies. ”
A sickening knot formed in my stomach.
Her voice wavered, but she pushed forward. “I didn’t confront him. I didn’t scream or demand answers. Instead, I decided to mindfuck him for once.” Her lips curled slightly, but there was no humor in it. Just bitterness. “I told him I had proof. Proof of the girls. And proof of what he did to you.”
My breath hitched. “Wait—what?” My chest tightened. “Did he believe you?”
“Not at first.” She scoffed. “But I saw it in his face. It was eating him alive. He told me if I destroyed the evidence, he’d remove the prenup from our marriage and make sure I inherited everything—the business, the house, the trusts. All of it.”
I stiffened. “So… are you here to loan me money? Because I don’t ne—”
“I told him to go fuck himself.”
Her voice was sharp, resolute.
Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay steady. “I don’t need proof to know.” Her voice cracked, and she blinked hard. “To know that my daughter was violated in a way no man should ever do to a little girl.”
A single tear slipped down her cheek, and my heart clenched.
Relief flooded me, but with it came fear—because now, she knew.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and continued. “I called Olga the next day. Asked if she’d ever seen anything. If she knew.” My mom let out a shaky breath. “She did. But she also knew Richard would kill her if she ever went to the cops.”
I gritted my teeth. “So why didn’t she—”
“She had proof.”
I froze. “What?”
“She wasn’t lying.” My mom’s face paled. “She installed a hidden camera in your room once. The footage is grainy, low-quality—she could only afford a cheap one—but there’s no mistaking it. It’s your room. And a man. And a little girl.”
My vision blurred. My stomach turned violently.
My mom shut her eyes like she was about to be sick. “You can hear grunting. And then…” Her voice wavered. “It’s him.”
A sob wracked through her, and she angrily wiped the tears away. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.
“So when your—” She stopped herself, biting back his name.
“When Richard was gone one day, I went to the cops. I filed a report. Told them everything. I told them about the drugs in the house, about who he really is. I told them they needed to investigate, that he needs to be locked up for what he did to you—and for what he did to those women.”
I shook my head. “Mom… you know the cops won’t do anything unless multiple women come forward. Even then, without solid proof—”
“I gave them proof.” She turned to face me, her eyes burning with fury and something else—determination.
“I showed them the bank statements. The unusual withdrawals. I told them I knew he cheated, that I took the abuse because I thought as long as you were taken care of, it was worth it.” Her voice broke.
“But now that I know what he did to you? I want him to burn.”
I was speechless.
For the first time in years, my mother—the woman I once trusted, the woman I hated, the woman I thought I’d lost—was finally here. Really here.
She reached for me, but hesitated. Her fingers curled into fists, and tears streamed down her face.
“And, baby… I’m so damn sorry.” Her voice broke completely.
“I thought I was giving you a better life. I thought I was giving you everything I never had. And instead… I gave you hell instead of heaven.”
Her body trembled as sobs overtook her.
I couldn’t stop myself. I got up, rushed to her, and sank to my knees, wrapping my arms around her as tightly as I could.
“I’m so damn sorry,” she sobbed, clutching me. “I was a horrible mother. And I—”
“Shhh.” I rocked her gently, my own tears spilling freely. “Mom… I know.”
She buried her face in my hair. “I love you so damn much.”
“I love you, too.” My voice cracked, the words barely making it out. It felt like my mom was back, finally. My arms tightened around her, afraid that if I let go, she’d disappear again.
She pulled back first, just enough to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “How did you get here? Do you have a place to stay?” I asked, searching her face for any sign of hesitation.
Her breath trembled, but she lifted her chin. “He lost it when I told him I had proof. Hit me. Then, like that could fix it, he put a million dollars in my account. Told me it was an apology, that we’d get through this if I just kept quiet.”
My stomach twisted. “And?”
“The day I left, I drained it. Moved it somewhere safe. I’ll be okay for a while.” Her voice was steady now, her eyes sharper than I remembered.
I swallowed hard. “What do we do now?”
She reached for my hand, gripping it tight. “We fight. We survive. But this time, we do it together.”