Chapter 90
ELODIE’S POV~
We worked until past two in the morning.
The PowerPoint was endless. Slide after slide breaking down core technologies from every major exhibit we’d seen. Comparative analyses. Market projections. Technical specifications that made my eyes blur after a while.
When I finally hit send on the email to Nolan, I wanted to collapse right there on the floor.
Johnny was already half-asleep on my couch, laptop still balanced on his knees. “If he writes back saying this isn’t good enough, I’m done. I’m retiring. Moving to a cabin in the woods p>
“You don’t know how to live in the woods.” I told him with a smirk.
“I’ll learn.” He rubbed his eyes. “God, what time is it p>
“After two p>
“Fantastic.” He closed his laptop with more force than necessary. “I need to go home before I die here p>
I would’ve told him to just crash on the couch. I had blankets, pillows, it wouldn’t have been a big deal but he didn’t have a change of clothes. Would have to do the walk of shame tomorrow in the same outfit.
So I didn’t offer.
He dragged himself to his feet, looking about as steady as I felt. “You gonna be okay p>
“I’ll be fine. Just go. Take enough rest and sleep p>
“Yeah. You too p>
I walked him to the door, limped, really, because my ankle was screaming with every step that I took and locked it behind him once he was gone.
The apartment felt too quiet suddenly. Too empty.
I needed a shower. Needed to wash off this entire nightmare of a day.
The hot water helped. Loosened the knots in my shoulders, made my muscles stop aching quite so badly. But when I got out and caught my reflection in the mirror, me being pale, exhausted, eyes red and puffy, I looked away fast.
Just get to bed. That’s all I had to do.
I collapsed onto the mattress and was asleep in seconds.
Morning came way too soon.
I woke up to sunlight hitting my face and my ankle throbbing like it had its own heartbeat. I tested it carefully, and realized it was definitely better than yesterday, but still tender. Still swollen and angry-looking.
Johnny had told me to take a few days off, to work from home and let it heal.
So that’s what I did.
I set up my laptop on the kitchen counter and started going through emails while the coffee brewed. The client updates. Project reviews. The usual morning routine, just without having to put on real pants.
My phone rang around nine.
Liora’s name lit up the screen.
I smiled before I even answered. “Hey, sweetheart p>
“Mom! How’s your foot? Is it better p>
I shifted my weight, testing the ankle again. But it still hurt, but manageable. “It’s getting there. Much better than yesterday p>
“Oh, good.” I could hear the relief in her voice. Real relief. “I was really worried p>
“I know. But I’m okay. Promise p>
Silence on the other end. I could hear background noise, dishes clattering, someone talking. Probably Sabina making breakfast.
Maybe Dante.
“Well… that’s good then,” Liora said.
More silence.
I waited. Waited for her to fill the quiet the way she used to, with stories about school or her friends or some show she’d watched. Anything.
But nothing came.
Just awkward, empty air between us.
“So I tried. “What are you up to today p>
“Oh, um. Just school stuff. Homework p>
“Right. Of course p>
Another pause.
This wasn’t how it used to be.
Two years ago, Liora would’ve had a thousand things to tell me. Would’ve been talking nonstop about everything and nothing, bouncing from topic to topic the way kids do when they feel safe and loved.
But somewhere along the way, that had changed.
I’d watched it happen. Felt it happening. The conversations were getting shorter. The calls are less frequent. Liora turned to Sienna when she had problems instead of me.
And I’d let it happen.
What else could I do? I couldn’t force my daughter to confide in me. Couldn’t compete with Sienna, who was there all the time, who didn’t carry the weight of a dying marriage into every interaction.
So the distance grew.
And now we were here. Mother and daughter, talking like strangers making small talk.
Liora cared. I could hear it. The concern was genuine.
But it was shallow. Surface-level.
If this had happened two years ago, if I’d gotten hurt back when things were still good, Liora would’ve been devastated. Would’ve cried and clung to me and refused to leave my side. Would’ve been my little shadow, constantly checking to make sure I was okay.
Back then, she’d been my “little cotton-padded jacket.” So warm… Protective. Completely devoted to me.
Now?
Now she was just doing her duty. Calling because it was the right thing to do.
Not because the thought of me being hurt was unbearable to her.
My throat felt tight.
But all of that, the worry, the devotion, the desperate need to be close when I was hurting, all of that had gone to Sienna now.
I’d seen it happen before.
Last time Sienna got sick… just a cold, nothing serious, Liora had secretly messaged her during school to check on her. Dante had left the breakfast table mid-meal to go see her. And the second school let out, Liora had the driver take her straight to Sienna’s place.
So if Liora had really been that worried about me last night, she could’ve insisted on knowing where I was staying. Could’ve had the driver bring her over. Could’ve shown up at my door with that anxious look she used to get when I so much as sneezed.
But she didn’t.
She just… called. Asked if I was okay. And when I said yes, that was enough for her.
“Mom p>
I blinked. “Yeah p>
“Do you… do you want to talk to Dad p>
The question hit me like cold water.
I could hear it in her voice, she’d turned away from the phone, was asking Dante something. Probably if he wanted to talk to me.
Yesterday, when I fell, Dante didn’t help me. Didn’t even try. Just pushed me away like I was something unpleasant he needed to remove from his personal space.
When I got hurt, he acted like it had nothing to do with him.
There were only two explanations for that kind of indifference. Either he genuinely didn’t care if I lived or died. Or he was avoiding any situation that might upset Sienna. And clearly, in his mind, Sienna’s feelings mattered more than whether his wife was injured.
Either way, the message was clear.
I didn’t matter.
My jaw tightened. I was about to say something, something sharp, something that would make it clear exactly what I thought of his fake concern but then I heard his muffled, distant voice in the background.
“Ask your mother p>
Of course. Put it on me. Make it my choice so he didn’t have to be the one to reject me.
Liora came back on the line. “Mom? Dad wants to know if you want to talk to him p>
My throat felt tight.
Did I want to talk to him?
God, no.
What would be the point? So he could ask how I was doing in that flat, disinterested tone? So I could pretend we were a normal couple having a normal conversation instead of two people whose marriage was rotting from the inside out?
No.
I was done pretending.
“No need,” I said. My voice came out colder than I meant it to. “Mom has things to do p>
“Oh Liora paused. Then, away from the phone, “Dad, Mom says no p>
“Mm p>
That was it. Just that sound. Acknowledgment without emotion.
And then silence fell.
The conversation was over.
Just like that.
I set my phone down on the counter and stared at it.
That was my marriage. That’s what it had become.
Awkward phone calls through our daughter. Polite questions neither of us wanted to ask. Indifference wrapped up in the pretense of concern.
I picked up my coffee. It had gone cold.
The next few days blurred together.
I stayed home. Worked remotely. My ankle healed slowly, the swelling went down, the pain faded to a dull ache, and eventually I could walk without limping.
Liora called every day.
Same time. Same question. “How’s your foot, Mom p>
And every day, I’d tell her it was better. And she’d say “that’s good” and then we’d run out of things to say and she’d hang up.
She never asked to visit.
Never suggested coming over.
Just… called. Did her duty. Then moved on with her day.
And I let her.
What else could I do?
Two days after we submitted the “homework,” my phone rang with an unknown number.
My stomach dropped.
It was Professor Nolan.
It had to be.
I stared at the screen for three rings before I finally answered.