PASCAL
The moment I saw her, I knew it would end badly.
My mother never arrived anywhere quietly. Her presence always carried weight, part authority, part warning. Even before she spoke, the room shifted to accommodate her. The orchestra’s music didn’t falter, but the murmur of conversation did, thinning into uneasy silence as she swept forward.
And her eyes were fixed on one person.
Kendra.
She turned slightly toward the sound of movement, her spine straightening instinctively. For a heartbeat, she looked startled, like a deer realizing it had wandered into a hunter’s path. But then she caught herself, adjusted, and her chin lifted. The tremor in her hands vanished as if she’d willed it away.
Good. I wanted to see if she could stand her ground.
Mother reached us, her gown trailing
