EMBER’S POV

My mother stands in the doorway, draped in designer everything as always.

A silk dress in garish emerald that probably cost more than she can actually afford. Jewelry dripping from her neck, her ears, her wrists, every piece fighting for attention.

Hair and makeup done to perfection, not a strand out of place, like she’s walking a red carpet instead of entering a private dining room.

She wanted to make an impression.

Our eyes meet across the room.

The color drains from both our faces.

I didn’t know she would be here. Harrison didn’t mention her.

He said family, he said Gale, but he never said anything about...