Betrayed Before “I DO”

Chapter 15

My breath caught anyway.

Not because my mother was alive.

I already knew that.

But because I wasn’t ready to face her.

Not like this.

Not after everything.

Victoria opened the door fully and stepped aside, like she was handing me over.

“Go,” she said quietly.

My feet felt heavy as I stepped inside.

The room felt too quiet.

Too calm for everything that was crashing through me.

The woman by the window didn’t turn straight away.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at her back, trying to match the idea I had built in my head with the real person standing in front of me.

She moved first.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

And then she turned.

My chest tightened.

She looked… like me.

Or maybe I looked like her.

Same eyes.

Same shape to her face.

Just older. Sharper. Stronger.

Like she had been forged by things I didn’t yet understand.

Her gaze locked onto mine, and for a second, neither of us spoke.

I stared at her, really stared this time, trying to find something familiar beyond the obvious similarities. Something soft. Something that felt like a mother.

But there was nothing.

Just control. Just distance.

Just a woman who had stood in the shadows of my entire life and done nothing.

“You don’t get to look at me like that,” I said finally, my voice tight but steady.

Her brows drew together slightly. “Like what?”

“Like you know me,” I snapped. “Like you have any right to stand there and act like this is normal.”

Victoria shifted slightly behind me, but I ignored her. This wasn’t about her anymore. This was about the woman in front of me. The one who had been missing my entire life and somehow expected me to just… accept it.

“I buried you,” I continued, my throat tightening despite myself. “Do you understand that? I stood at a grave and cried for you. I grew up thinking you were gone, that you left me, that I didn’t matter enough for you to stay alive for.”

Her expression flickered then, something breaking through that carefully controlled mask.

“Maisie—”

“No,” I cut in sharply. “Don’t say my name like that.”

The words came out harsher than I expected, but I didn’t take them back.

“You don’t get to say my name like you’ve been there,” I said, my voice shaking now, but I didn’t care. “You don’t get to stand there and act like any of this makes sense. Because it doesn’t.”

Silence stretched between us.

For a moment, I thought she might argue. Defend herself. Give me something—anything—to make this feel less like I’d just had my entire life ripped apart again.

But she didn’t.

And somehow, that made it worse.

“Say something,” I demanded, my chest rising and falling too fast now. “Explain it. Tell me why I grew up without a mother while you were clearly alive and perfectly capable of finding me.”

Her gaze held mine, steady and unflinching.

“I was protecting you.”

The words landed flat.

Cold.

Empty.

I let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking my head slowly.

“Protecting me?” I repeated. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Yes.”

The calmness in her voice snapped something inside me.

“Don’t,” I said sharply. “Don’t stand there and say that like it justifies anything. Do you have any idea what my life was like? Do you have any idea what I went through in that house?”

Her jaw tightened slightly, but she didn’t interrupt me.

Good.

Because I wasn’t finished.

“I wasn’t protected,” I continued, my voice rising now. “I was controlled. I was manipulated. I was made to feel like I was nothing unless I did exactly what they wanted. And you’re telling me you left me there on purpose?”

There it was.

The truth sitting right between us.

She didn’t deny it.

And that hurt more than anything else.

“I made a choice,” she said carefully.

My stomach dropped.

“A choice?” I echoed, my voice quieter now, but far more dangerous. “You made a choice to leave me there.”

Her eyes hardened slightly. “I made a choice to keep you alive.”

“That’s not the same thing,” I shot back immediately.

“To me, it is.”

The finality in her tone made my chest tighten painfully.

For a second, I couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t think.

All I could hear was my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

“You don’t get to decide that,” I said finally, my voice low and shaking. “You don’t get to decide what kind of life I should have had without even giving me a say in it.”

“You wouldn’t have survived the alternative,” she replied.

That stopped me.

Not because I believed her.

But because of how certain she sounded.

Like there had never been another option.

Like she had already played out every possible outcome and this—this life I had lived—had been the best one.

The thought made my stomach twist.

“Then you should have tried harder,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Something broke across her face then.

Not fully.

Not enough.

But it was there.

A c***k in that perfect control.

“I did,” she said quietly.

I shook my head immediately, refusing to accept that.

“No,” I said. “You didn’t. Because if you had, you would have been there. You would have found a way. You would have fought for me instead of disappearing and letting me believe you were dead.”

Her silence returned.

And this time, it felt heavier.

More loaded.

Like there were things she wasn’t saying.

Things she wouldn’t say.

I let out a slow, unsteady breath, wrapping my arms around myself as if that would somehow hold me together.

“I don’t even know you,” I admitted, my voice cracking despite my effort to stay strong. “You’re standing there telling me all of this like it’s supposed to make sense, but it doesn’t. It just makes me feel like I’ve been lied to my entire life.”

Her gaze softened then, just slightly.

“I know.”

That made my chest ache in a completely different way.

“Do you?” I asked quietly. “Because it doesn’t feel like you do.”

She took a small step closer.

Instinctively, I stepped back.

The movement was small, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

Something flickered in her eyes again.

Hurt.

This time, she didn’t hide it as well.

“Maisie,” she said, more gently now. “Everything I did—”

“Wasn’t for me,” I cut in, shaking my head. “It was for you. For whatever life you chose over me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then prove it,” I challenged immediately.

The words hung in the air between us.

Heavy.

Demanding.

For the first time since I walked into that room…

She didn’t have an answer.

And somehow, that told me everything I needed to know.

I let out a shaky breath and looked away from her, unable to hold her gaze any longer.

“I don’t care what kind of life you think I was ‘saved’ from,” I said quietly. “Because whatever it was… it couldn’t have felt worse than growing up without a mother who chose to leave me.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

And this time…

She didn’t try to break it.