Chapter 14 - The Confession
"I didn't come here for money," Laya said immediately, as if reading the defensive wall I had instinctively thrown up. "I know better than that now."
"Good," I replied, leaning back in my leather chair and folding my hands over my blotter. "Because I wouldn't give you any."
Laya winced, but she didn't snap back or roll her eyes like she used to. She just swallowed hard, fighting back the tremor in her lower lip.
"I went to the old house last week," she whispered. "To drop off some mail for Mom and Dad. The For Sale sign was gone. The new owners had already painted the front door blue."
"They had to sell it, Laya," I said, my voice clinical and steady. "You drained their retirement accounts to fund a lifestyle you couldn't afford."
"I know," she choked out, a tear finally spilling over her lashes and tracking down her cheek. "I drove by my old apartment, too. The one I shared with Evan before he left. It’s empty. Everything I thought was important... all those expensive dresses, the venue deposits, the champagne toasts... it was all built on sand. The moment the money stopped, everybody stopped loving me."
"Nobody ever stopped loving you, Laya," I said softly. "They just stopped enabling your entitlement. There's a massive difference."
May you like
She looked up, her eyes wide and red-rimmed. "How do you do it? How do you look at me after everything I put you through, and not hate me?"
"Because hating you would mean I still care about the person you used to be," I answered. "And that person doesn't exist anymore."
