Chapter Thirty-Three

Lyrical

S omeone knocks on my door, and I rush to open it. My mother stands in the archway with an overnight bag in her hand and a box of pizza in the other. This is a surprise, because I wasn't expecting to see her until our lunch date next week.

The guard eyes my mother cautiously, and I place my hand on his shoulder. This is another reason why I should be concerned about whatever Snow's hiding. If he feels like someone is after me, I need to know, so I can protect myself.

"It's okay. This is my mother."

Snow is freaking me out with the guards, and he's been paranoid lately, making sure I have a guard following me whenever he's not around. He won't tell me what's going on, and I feel like I'm alone where everyone else is in on this big secret. No matter how many times I ask him what's going on, he won't tell me. It seems like nothing has changed with him.

"What are you doing here?"

She strides inside, amazed at the decor of the farmhouse, and I shut the door behind her.

"You had the farmhouse built exactly how you like it."

"Actually, Snow had it built for me as a wedding gift."

"That was thoughtful of him." A smile stretches across her face. "I'm here to spend the night with you. Snow informed me he didn't want you to spend the night by yourself." She crinkles her nose. "Where is he, by the way?"

"Bachelor party with his friends."

I show her to the dining room to set the pizza on the table. Grabbing a slice, I gobble it up as I show her to the guest room so she can get settled, then I head back to the living room and grab my phone from the coffee table to shoot Snow a text message.

Me: Why did you send my mother over?

Snow: To keep you occupied. You keep googling ‘what type of secret my fiancé is hiding'.

Me: Stalker. One day I'm going to find out what app you are using to spy on me. Are you still not going to tell me what's going on?

Snow: NO. You will never find the app.

Me: Insert middle finger emoji. Maybe I should put a spying app on YOUR phone.

I tuck my feet under my butt as I scroll mindlessly through IG.

My mother strides in, wearing a silk gown and a pair of house slippers. She flops down on the couch next to me and it's so awkward that I don't know what to say or do. Some days, I wish I were close to her like I was when I was a little girl. Our relationship has been distant and we've become detached, especially after the car accident.

I look at Jameson's story to see strippers are giving him a lap dance, while Keanu and Snow are by the bar, downing shots.

I send Snow a message.

Me: How come I wasn't allowed to have male strippers at my party, but you can have strippers at yours?

Snow: I didn't hire them, Keanu did.

Me: That's not fair. I wanted men shaking their dicks in my face.

Snow: If that would have happened, I would have sliced their dicks off and shoved it down their throats.

Me: Jealous much?

Snow: Very. You already know how far my jealousy takes me.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" my mother asks.

I nod, snatching the remote from the coffee table, and I put it on her favorite. The Notebook.

I never know what to say to her, we never spent time with each other, other than going to lunch dates, and she has never been in my personal life unless it's involved my marriage to Snow.

"Snow told me you had dinner with your professor to have one of your paintings in his art gallery. That's nice."

She never complimented me on my art before, so what's the catch? Did my father put her up to it? They used to fight all the time about her not being a supportive mother when it comes to my dreams and hobbies.

I raise my eyebrows and straighten my spine. "That's nice?"

She brushes a few strands of hair from my forehead. "Yes."

"You don't have to care about my artwork, it's okay. I know you only care about me being taken care of."

She sighs, picking at the invisible lint on her gown. "It's not that I don't care about your work, sweetheart. I've been projecting my trauma onto you and that's not right. I've been talking to a therapist, and she told me I did a lot of projecting that I wasn't aware of."

She glances out the window at the pitch-black sky. This is what I love about this place, it feels secluded and peaceful.

Snow bought this land so we could be away from people, which I don't mind. He wanted to move to New York City and be close to one of the locations owned by the Billionaire Club, but I'm not one for the city life. It's too loud, with too many people.

"What do you mean?"

She frowns. "I never told you about my childhood and what it was like for me."

"You grew up in a wealthy home. Nana and Papa love you so much."

She shakes her head. "No, I grew up poor, jumping from home to home. My birth parents traded me in for drugs. I was in foster care up until I was thirteen years old, then your nana and papa adopted me. My parents aren't your real grandparents." She removes her house slippers from her pedicured feet and crosses her legs. "I met your father my freshman year of North Haven University, and he was in an arranged marriage with someone else. So, he told his father that he didn't want the woman he was engaged to and convinced him to approve of us being together. His parents didn't like me, especially your nana, but they came around."

I knew Nana and my mother butted heads a few times. When we used to go over there for holidays, the tension would be so thick, I could have cut it with a knife. My nana said mean things to my mother, and my mother would ignore her.

"Your father wanted the trailer trash girl and not the rich girl whose parents had a billion-dollar empire. I had to prove I was good enough to be here. I guess I was making sure you were taken care of like I was. I had dreams too, Lyrical."

This is the first time my mother has actually opened up to me about her past.

"What were they?"

"I wanted to be a defense lawyer, but your dad's father gave me an ultimatum: give up my dreams and follow the traditions of the Billionaire Club or leave his son alone. I chose your father. I will always choose your father. Your grandfather helped my adoptive parents become billionaires too." She sighs. "I grew up poor and as a nobody, and no one loved me until your father came along."

I bring my mother into a hug. I had no idea the life she had to live through. I had no idea she had a rough childhood. It's a shock that my mother's parents aren't my biological grandparents.

"I don't understand why you would keep that from me."

"Because I wanted to forget about my past so quickly. It's a part of me that I'm ashamed of. They gave me a lot of hell because of my background, and for a while, it ate away at my self-esteem to the point that I wanted to hide it from you. I wanted to protect you because I didn't want you to look at me as a failure. I didn't want you to look at me as less than. I want to give you the life I never had. I wanted you to fit in, because I know what this lifestyle entails. It can be corrupt, and I wanted to make sure you are taken care of. I didn't support your career because it wasn't part of the tradition of being among the elite. I was like you, filled with dreams and hopes, but then I realized I'm not the broke, unloved girl anymore. And you have more love than I ever did."

"I'm sorry, Mother. And I don't see you as a failure. I just want you to support my dreams and be happy about what I want."

"I understand. So, if your artwork is picked, then I want to be there at the showing."

"Really?"

"I'm sorry I wasn't supportive of your goals and dreams before."

"It's fine. I understand now."

She smiles, and I'm so glad she's supporting me because that's all I wanted from her.

I might be a disappointment to her, though, if she knew that I used to cut myself. I frown.

"What's wrong, darling?"

Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and slowly, I roll up my shirt sleeve, exposing the faint scars on my arm.

"I've been cutting myself instead of dealing with the pain of losing Bailey."

My mother gasps as tears gather in her own eyes, then she brings me into a hug, and I cry on her shoulder.

"Snow helps me deal with it in other ways. He's actually helping me a lot." My mother doesn't need to know how he hurts me and that I love the pain he inflicts on me. "I still think about her. I can't believe I made it up that someone pulled me over and drugged me. I don't remember taking a drug, but I must have. It's my fault she passed away."

"Accidents happen and we all make mistakes, you shouldn't beat yourself up about it."

"But I'm the one who got behind the wheel."

"Yeah, you did, but you will go insane thinking about the what-ifs. Bailey wants you to be happy. She wants you to go on with the dream you have and live a great life. She doesn't want you to be sad about something you had no control over. She knew both of you took a drug and she didn't stop it. Just don't do any more drugs."

"I haven't touched a single one since."

She kisses the top of my head. "Good." She inhales deeply, then exhales.

"Did you know Dad killed people?"

"Yes. He has killed for me. It's what he was trained to do since he was a teenager."

"Why did he kill for you?"

"One of my foster dads raped me. I told him about it, spilling my guts. I was just opening up about some of the things that happened to me, but I thought nothing of it. And, the next day, I saw my foster dad on the news, about how he died from a gunshot wound. I asked your father about it, and he told me he did it and the man deserved it. I agree with your father."

I hug my mother tight. Now I understand her a lot more than I did. I used to not understand why she is the way she is with me. All this time my mother was fighting her own battles. Hearing what my mom went through brings me great sorrow.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I'm sorry for how I was acting toward you. I wish you had a better childhood."

She nods, kissing my forehead.

"I'm proud of you, Lyrical. No matter what you do in life, I will always be proud of you. Don't you forget it."