And when she spoke, her voice carried eighteen years of fire.
“You abandoned us.”
Lauren blinked.
“We never needed your money,” Emma continued, steady. “We needed a mother. You chose not to be one.”
Clara rose beside her. “Dad didn’t just raise us. He believed in us. He gave us our world.”
Then Clara reached out blindly, finding the lavender gown she’d made.
She lifted it, fingers tracing the seams she had sewn with her own hands.
“This,” she whispered, “is more valuable than anything you brought.”
Lauren’s painted smile cracked.
“And your condition?” Emma said, lifting her chin. “Here’s ours.”
She took the designer gown… and handed it back.
“We choose Dad.”
Clara followed, placing the cash on the table.
“We choose love.”
