My mother—a woman who hadn’t sent a single dollar, diaper, or birthday card in seven long years—strode into my living room as if she owned the place. The twins, Lily and Maya, clung to my legs, their wide eyes shifting between the towering piles of brightly wrapped designer toys and the flashy stranger claiming to be their mom.
“Look at you two!” she squealed, her manicured hands fluttering in the air. “You’re absolutely gorgeous. You get that from my side, obviously.”
“Get out, Eleanor,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. I hadn’t called her ‘Mom’ since the day she walked out.
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Eleanor finally looked at me, her smile instantly souring into a look of supreme annoyance. “Oh, don’t be dramatic, Leo. I know you’re probably bitter about the past, but I’m here now. And frankly, looking around this cramped little place, it’s a miracle you’ve kept them alive. You should be thanking me for stepping in.”
