Chapter 28
Jul 4, 2025
We sit across from my parents. The silence stretches so long it feels like its own kind of punishment. The room is too polished, too cold—crystal glasses untouched, gold-framed paintings watching like ghosts.
My father sits like a statue, jaw locked, hands clasped tightly on the table. My mother looks like she’s bracing for war. And maybe she is. Maybe we all are.
I speak first. “I won’t give him up.” My voice is clear, steady, even though every nerve in my body is screaming.
My father’s face goes red almost instantly. It starts at the collar and climbs. “Then you’re cut off,” he snaps. “No tuition. No trust fund. You want to play adult? Pay for it yourself.”
My heartbeat slams in my ears. For a second, I think I might crumble. But then I feel it—the stubborn flame in my chest. The one they tried to smother.
My mother shifts, her mouth twitching like she wants to say something but doesn’t. Her fingers curl on the edge of her seat. My father turns to her, eyes narrowing.
“You’re not seriously condoning this.”
“I didn’t say anything,” she says softly. But her hand slides over the table, quiet and calm. Not toward him. Toward me.
He scoffs. “This is what happens when you let children think they have a choice. Look where your little fantasy got us.”
My mother’s voice turns steel. “It’s not a fantasy. It’s her life.”
I breathe. “Then I’ll get a job.”
The silence is nuclear. You could hear a pin drop—or a family legacy collapse.
“A job,” my father repeats. Like the word itself is an insult.
“Yes,” I say. “It’s what people do when they don’t have unlimited credit cards.”
His laugh is sharp and humorless. “What will you do, Juliet? Make lattes? Sell skincare from your phone? Good luck affording St. Augustine’s on that.”
“I don’t care,” I say. “I’ll figure it out. I’d rather be broke and free than rich and miserable.”
“You think freedom is noble? You’ll see how far it gets you when the world starts saying no. When you’re cold and exhausted and invisible.”
“I’m already invisible to you,” I say. “Unless I’m doing exactly what you want.”
His hand slams the table, rattling the glass. “I gave you everything.”
“And now I’m giving it back,” I say, voice shaking. “Because I’m not for sale.”
“You’re throwing your life away for a boy who’ll forget you the second he graduates.”
“No,” I say. “I’m finally building my life by living it on my own terms.”
My mother finally speaks. “Let her talk.”
My father’s eyes flash. “She’s made herself clear.”
“No,” I say again, louder now. “You don’t get to dismiss me like I’m one of your staff. You always said the Alden name mattered. That I had to uphold it. That I was born to represent something.”
He lifts his chin. “Exactly. And right now, you’re dragging it through the mud.”
I lean forward. “Then let me decide what it stands for.”
He glares at me like he’s never actually seen me before. Maybe he hasn’t. Maybe this is the first time I’ve truly spoken.
My voice softens. “I used to think your approval meant safety. That if I was perfect enough, silent enough, obedient enough—you’d finally see me. But I’m done chasing that. I don’t want a life built on fear.”
“You’ll regret this,” he says, voice low.
“Maybe,” I say. “But at least it’ll be my regret.”
I push my chair back. The legs scrape sharply against the hardwood. I stand slowly, like if I move too fast the courage will vanish. But it doesn’t. It holds.
My mother doesn’t stop me. Her eyes are glassy, but she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t follow.
And for once, neither does he. No angry shout. No cold demand. Just silence.
I get up. And for once, they don’t follow.
