Dana, my mother, stopped by the doorway. She turned around, looking at Avery with the weary, profound impatience reserved for a persistent, ugly stain on an expensive rug.
“Why waste money on you, Avery?” Dana asked. Her voice was as smooth, cold, and flawless as polished white marble. “You don’t care about jewelry. You don’t care about designer clothes. You wear those hideous blazers and sit in the dark typing on a laptop all day.”
Avery blinked, the words stinging like slaps to the face. “It’s a holiday, Mom. I thought—”
“We only keep you around out of habit, darling,” Dana interrupted casually, checking her reflection in a nearby mirror. “Let’s not pretend you’re like us. You don’t contribute to the family image. Buying you luxury items would just be a waste of resources.”Beside their mother, Chloe let out a sharp, mocking snicker. She scanned Avery’s sensible clothes, her unvarnished fingernails, and her simple hair.
“You just aren’t on our level, Sis,” Chloe sneered, holding her diamond panther ring up to the sunlight so it sparkled blindingly. “There is no need to pretend you fit in here. Go find a calculator or something.”
Richard didn’t defend Avery. He didn’t tell Chloe to shut up. He didn’t tell Dana to apologize. He simply looked down at the hardwood floor, adjusted his tie, and muttered, “Let’s get to breakfast. The eggs are getting cold.”
The three of them turned their backs on Avery, walking out onto the sun-drenched terrace, laughing over a joke Preston had made.
Avery sat back down on the velvet chair. She looked at the empty space where her family had just been. Inside her chest, the final, fragile thread of sentimentality snapped. The desperate, twenty-year-old hope of ever earning her family’s love suddenly died.
The compliant, useful Avery Sloan permanently flatlined. And in her place, the ruthless, hyper-analytical corporate liquidator took over. She ran the numbers on her family, and the calculation was clear. They were a bad debt. It was time to close the account.
Chapter 2: The Grey Rock Departure
The laughter from the terrace drifted back into the living room, a hollow, grating sound that no longer hurt Avery. It just sounded like static.
