Chapter 2

Conrad called me seven times the next morning.

I did not answer once.

After leaving the birthday party before dawn, I checked into a hotel downtown. For the first time in thirteen years, I did not have to wake up at six, check whether Phoebe had packed her gym clothes, or place Conrad's coffee beside his right hand.

At eight thirty, Phoebe sent me a message.

My enrollment deposit is due Friday. When are you transferring the money?

I replied: You already spent that money.

She called almost immediately.

"That money bought Mom an apartment. It wasn't for tuition."

"The account did not separate apartment money from tuition money. You knew it was your college fund. You should not have spent it on impulse."

"But you have money."

"And?"

The line went quiet.

Phoebe had clearly never expected me to ask that.

"So you can put it back. Dad said our fight shouldn't cost me college."

"Your father is right. Your education should not be delayed."

Her tone softened.

"Then transfer it today."

"Ask your legal guardian to handle it."

"Talia!"

It had been a long time since she had called me that.

Whenever she needed a school form signed, a ride to the hospital, or someone to pick her up in the middle of the night, I had always been Mom.

Now that her birth mother was back, I had become Talia again.

"Is there anything else?"

She hung up.

Half an hour later, Conrad finally got through from another number.

"What exactly are you trying to do?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Phoebe has been crying all morning. You know how long she worked to get into that school."

"Then why did you let her spend her college fund?"

"Vera needed a stable place to live. It will help them rebuild their relationship."

"Then the two of you can pay for that relationship."

Conrad drew a slow breath.

"Talia, you have had thirteen years with her. Vera only wants the chance to live close to her daughter. Why are you competing with a mother who lost her child for thirteen years?"

"She did not lose her child. She left her."

"It is more complicated than you think."

That sentence reminded me of the past three months.

Conrad had gone apartment hunting with Vera. He had taken her to dinner and joined her at Phoebe's school events. Each time, he told me it was complicated and that Phoebe needed both of her parents there.

But when they posed for a picture the night before, his hand had settled naturally on Vera's waist.

Phoebe posted the photo online with the caption: After thirteen years, my family is finally complete.

I was not in it.

"I want a divorce," I said.

There were two seconds of silence.

Then Conrad laughed.

"Over $156,000?"

"Because you finally made me understand that this family needs my money and my labor. It does not need me."

"Take a few days and calm down. Once you've thought this through, I'll make Phoebe apologize."

"Don't bother."

His voice hardened.

"Do not forget that you haven't held a real job in thirteen years. Those little projects barely bring in one or two thousand dollars a month. Without me, you won't even be able to afford that hotel for long."

After he ended the call, a notification from the bank appeared.

Conrad had canceled the supplementary household card in my name.

He thought cutting off one card would force me home.

Instead, I remembered Phoebe at four years old, clinging to my waist in a hospital room. Conrad had held my hand and promised, "You'll only quit for a few months. Once the company is stable, it will be my turn to take care of you."

I stared at the notification and felt no anger.

Only disbelief at how absurd it all was.

Thirteen years ago, his home furnishings company had two employees and a warehouse with months of unpaid rent. He had gone from investor to investor, but no one wanted to take on that mountain of debt.

By then, I had already broken with my family for him. My father had forced me to choose between the Bennetts and Conrad.

I chose Conrad.

And I chose the four-year-old girl who had wrapped her arms around me and called me Mom.

When I left home, I took nothing from the family trust. The only major asset I was free to use was the small apartment my mother had left me before I married.

I sold it and gave the money to my college friend Audrey to manage. Through Northbridge Investments, she made the first investment in Hale Living.

Conrad had always believed that some anonymous investor had recognized his talent.

At the hotel desk, I replaced the canceled household card with my own.

The payment went through.

Then I called Audrey's private number.

She answered at once. "Talia?"

"Pull Northbridge out of Hale Living's next funding round."

There were two seconds of silence.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Audrey asked no more questions. Before hanging up, she said, "Mr. Bennett is still waiting for your call."

I scrolled to the bottom of my contacts.

I had not called that number in thirteen years.

This time, I pressed it.

"Dad," I said. "It's me."