Worth the Fall

I don’t know how I got here—standing on the front steps of the people who gave me the love of my life, knocking on their door and begging them to take him back. Everything I have ever done has been for love. And now? Now I know there’s no going back, and we can’t move forward, so what does that leave us with? Nothing, I guess. The massive double doors creak open just enough for me to see her. Miranda Baxter. She has always hated me. For what, I’ll probably never know. Maybe because I was never polished enough. Never rich enough. Never Baxter enough. Her perfectly manicured hand tightens around the edge of the door. “What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice sharpened with disgust. “Please, Miranda,” I say quietly. “I didn’t come here to fight with you. Can we talk?” Her expression hardens like I’ve just asked to borrow one of her kidneys. For a second, I think she’s going to have security drag me off the front porch by my ankles. But then, to my surprise, she opened the door just wide enough for me to slip past her. I step inside the Baxter estate, and just like always, it feels less like a home and more like a museum dedicated to money. Everything is spotless. Cold. Untouchable. She leads me into the parlor—because, of course, she does. God forbid anyone sees me in the main part of the house and discovers the Baxters have had direct contact with the lower class. “I don’t know what I could possibly do for you, Nessa,” Miranda says as she lowers herself gracefully into an armchair like she’s auditioning for the role of Evil Stepmother in a billion-dollar reboot. “You’ve already taken everything from me. My baby boy.” Her lip curls. “What else could you possibly want? Money?” There it is. The insult she’s been dying to throw. I straighten my spine and clasp my hands together before they can start shaking. “No, Miranda. Actually, I’m here for the exact opposite.” She arches one perfectly sculpted brow. “I’m here to beg you to take him back.” The second the words leave my mouth, regret twists in my stomach so sharply I nearly fold in half. Because saying it out loud makes it real. It means I’ve already lost. Miranda actually gasps. For the first time in my life, I have managed to surprise her. For a moment, she says nothing. Then she leans back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other. “Landon made his choice,” she says coolly. “Now it’s time he suffers with it.” Her tone is cold, but I catch it—the flash in her eyes. Relief. She’s not fooling anyone. “No,” I say, my voice steadier now. “Now I’m making a choice.” Her gaze sharpens. “Landon would never say it because he doesn’t want to hurt me,” I continue, glancing around the room. “But I know he misses this.” The chandeliers. The polished marble floors. The absurdly expensive paintings no one actually likes but everyone pretends to admire because they cost more than a small house. This life. This is where he’s always belonged. Not with me. Miranda studies me carefully. “So you’re just going to walk away?” she asks slowly. “No strings attached?” I almost laugh. No strings attached? After everything? “No,” I say. “Because after you and Mr. Baxter cut Landon off, I took him in.” I take a breath, trying not to let my voice c***k. “I loved him. I supported him. I paid for him to go to college. I worked three jobs to keep us afloat while he figured out what he wanted. I dropped out of law school.” My throat tightens, but I push through it. “So yes, I do expect repayment. Because I think it’s finally time I start living my life again. Don’t you?” Miranda stares at me for a long second before giving a short, humorless laugh. “I knew it,” she says. “You were nothing more than a gold digger. You just played the long game.” I let out a breath through my nose. If I weren’t so emotionally exhausted, I might’ve lunged across the coffee table. “It was never about the money, and you know it,” I say, my voice sharper now. “Because if it were, I would’ve asked for it a long time ago.” I take a step closer. “In fact, I don’t think Landon has bought me anything meaningful since high school. Not because he didn’t want to—because he couldn’t. I was the one sacrificing. I was the one providing. I paid to start his label. I paid for business school. I paid for all of it.” Miranda’s face doesn’t move, but I know she’s listening now. “I wouldn’t be standing here if this wasn’t for him,” I say, softer this time. “I know the life he has with me isn’t the life he ever pictured for himself. And I know he’d never ask you for help.” I swallow hard. “But he doesn’t want to manage. He doesn’t want to sit behind a desk and pretend he was made for spreadsheets and networking dinners. He wants to sing.” My voice breaks on the last word. “He wants to write songs. He wants to be who he actually is.” The silence that follows is crushing. Miranda blinks once. Then, finally: “How much?” The question should make me feel victorious. Instead, it makes me feel sick. “I only want what I paid,” I say. “Nothing more. Nothing less.” “And that amount would be?” she asks dryly, like she’s already annoyed by the inconvenience of me existing. I force myself not to hesitate. “Five million dollars.” She doesn’t even flinch. Of course she doesn’t. That amount to the Baxters is probably what they spend on decorative throw pillows no one is allowed to sit on. “Fine,” she says. “But you’ll sign a contract stating that you will never contact Landon—or this family—again. If you do, you’ll be in breach and owe us double.” And then she smiles. Like she thinks she’s won. The sad part is, she doesn’t realize I’m handing her the victory. She just needed to believe she took it. “Fine,” I say. “Have your lawyer send it to mine.” I turn toward the door before she stops me. “So that’s it?” Miranda asks. “You’re just going to walk away?” I don’t answer. “I don’t believe that,” she says. “You once said you would give up everything for Landon.” That one lands exactly where she meant it to. A direct hit to the heart. I close my eyes for half a second before answering. “That was before,” I say quietly. “Back when I was a naive girl.” I look at her over my shoulder. “Today, I’m just an exhausted woman.” And if I stay in this room one second longer, I’m going to fall apart right here on her imported Persian rug, and honestly, she’d probably charge me for emotional damages. So I head for the door. “Don’t forget this, Nessa,” Miranda calls after me. “Love doesn’t last when you’re from different classes.” I stop with my hand on the door. For a second, I almost turn around. Almost. Instead, I say the only thing I have left. “You’re right.” And then I leave. Because I can’t keep standing here pretending I have anything left to fight for. Because I can feel the breakdown clawing its way up my throat, and I refuse to let Miranda Baxter witness the final collapse of the girl she’s spent years trying to destroy. Because the only thing I had left was him. And I just gave him up. If I had known the day we met that this is how it would end— I never would’ve asked for his help. (Chapter Theme Song: Skyfall by Adele)