“You would choose Mom over me?”
The question stunned me.
Not because it hurt.
Because she genuinely believed they were competitors.
As though compassion had limited seating.
As though caring for Elena somehow harmed her.
I looked at my daughter.
Really looked at her.
And for the first time, I saw someone terrified.
Not entitled.
Terrified.
Because beneath the arrogance lived something much smaller.
Dependence.
For years, money protected her from consequences.
Now consequences had arrived.
She started crying.
