“Mom,” I said quietly, “give them back.”
Her eyes cooled. “You have a husband. Chloe is starting a life.”
“That car is mine.”
Chloe’s smile turned sugary. “Everything you have, you act like you earned alone.”
I reached for the keys.
My mother shoved me.
It wasn’t hard enough to look violent from across the room, but it was enough. My hip struck the edge of the banquet table. Silverware crashed. Cake plates shattered. A sharp pain twisted low in my stomach, sudden and white-hot.
For one second, nobody laughed.
Then Blake muttered, “Drama queen.”
I looked at my trembling hands and breathed through the pain. My mother’s expression flickered—not with guilt, only irritation that I had ruined her perfect scene.
“Sit down before you embarrass us more,” she hissed.
I didn’t sit.
