My Mom Invaded My Privacy, I Cut Her Off

Chapter 2

"Isn't it?"

She planted her hands on her hips, utterly convinced she was in the right.

"Buying something like that is proof enough! What decent young woman would do something like this?"

And in that moment, it finally hit me.

My mother really didn't love me.

"Fine."

I took a deep breath, bent down, picked up the toy from the floor, and put it back on the coffee table. Then I walked to the door and pulled it open.

"Leave."

"Fine! Fine! Stella, look at you! You're actually kicking your own mother out over some filthy little thing like that!"

I said nothing. I simply repeated, "Please leave my home."

She was trembling with rage. "You think I want to stay here? Fine, I'm leaving! Just wait. One day you'll regret this. And when you come crawling back to beg me to take you in, don't expect me to say yes!"

She shot me one last furious look before turning and walking away.

I closed the door, then slid down against it until I was sitting on the floor. My chest ached as if something had been ripped right out of it.

For the next week, my mother didn't call me once, and I didn't contact her either.

Then, on the evening of the seventh day, my phone rang.

I stared at the word "Mom" on the screen for a long time before finally answering.

"Stella."

Her voice was so gentle that it sent a chill down my spine, as if nothing had ever happened.

"You've had enough time to cool off, right? Mom knows you were upset that day. I'm not holding it against you. Come over tonight. There's something I need to talk to you about."

I gripped my phone without saying a word.

"You're still mad at me?" Her tone softened even more. "Come on. What mother holds a grudge against her own daughter? Just come over. We'll have a nice dinner together."

I wanted to refuse, but after opening my mouth a few times, I finally said, "Okay."

When I reached her door, I could hear laughter and chatter from inside before I even knocked.

Besides my mother, there were voices I didn't recognize—an adult man and a child.

I stopped in my tracks, a bad feeling creeping over me.

When I opened the door, an unfamiliar man was sitting in the living room. He looked to be in his forties, with thinning hair, narrow, beady eyes, and a crooked smile that revealed a mouthful of yellow teeth. He looked thoroughly unkempt.

Beside him sat a boy of 7 or 8, engrossed in a game on my mother's phone, the noise grating on my nerves.

The moment my mother saw me, she grabbed my arm and pulled me inside.

"You're here! Come sit! Stella, this is Marcus Walker. He works for the community, and he's got a great job and everything!"

Then she turned to the man with a smile.

"Marcus, this is my daughter, Stella Sinclair. She works at Moonlight Designs and makes over ten thousand a month. Pretty and proper-looking too, isn't she?"

Marcus looked me up and down, his gaze traveling from my face to my chest, then down to my legs.

I felt sick.

I pulled my arm free from my mother's grip.

"Mom, what is this?"

"What do you mean, what is this? Would your mother ever do anything to hurt you?"

She pushed me down onto the couch and made me sit across from Marcus. Then she leaned in and whispered, "You only bought that thing because you don't have a boyfriend, right? You're frustrated."

She patted my shoulder.

"So Mom found you someone. Marcus's a good catch. He already has a kid, too. Give him a chance."

I shot to my feet. "Mom! I already told you—"

"Sit down!"

She shoved me back onto the couch, then turned to Marcus with an apologetic smile.

"She's just shy. She doesn't talk much. Don't take it personally, Marcus."

Marcus kept a cigarette between his lips and casually blew out a cloud of smoke.

"Shy? She's 25 already. She's not some little girl anymore."