Marina took the news about the diner the way Ivy had known she would — quiet at first, almost too quiet, before something fierce and unfamiliar cracked through the careful calm she usually wore like armor.
"He sent someone to your workplace." Marina's voice had gone low and dangerous, nothing like the gentle, worn tone Ivy had grown up with. "To question your manager. About your hours."
"Lex thinks it's not really about the scholarship anymore. He thinks his dad's building a file. On me, specifically."
"Of course he is." Marina's hands had curled into fists on the kitchen table, and for a moment Ivy caught a glimpse of something she'd never quite seen in her mother before — not just grief, not just careful survival, but real anger, old and banked and finally catching air. "This is exact
