CHAPTER 43: MOTHER IS NOT MOTHERING

It had been two weeks since they returned but Theo hadn’t contacted her once.

Daisy tried not to overthink it at first. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he needed space. Maybe... he forgot her number.

Still, the silence felt heavier with each passing day.

She had even asked Aurora if she had seen him at the office lately, hoping for anything—a glimpse, a word, a sign. But Aurora only shook her head, sighing, "Honestly, the past week, it’s been hard to even spot him. And now with the new director arriving soon, our department’s a mess. I doubt I’ll be able to help you keep tabs on him right now."

Daisy sat at her vanity, her eyes drifting to the phone on the table—Theo’s phone. The one he left behind in a rush... and never once came looking for.

Her fingers twitched.

"Should I use that as an excuse?" she muttered, staring at the cold, black screen as if it might light up and give her an answer.

But silence came again.

With a sigh, she pulled open the drawer and reached for the familiar notebook. Her eyes fell on the page she hadn’t touched in weeks, the one marked in bold at the top: Survival Guide.

Pressing her pen to the paper, she added a fifth point:

Prepare for anything. The man’s unpredictability is now medically supported.

Focus. The goal hasn’t changed. Find out the truth about Dad.

She paused. The pen hovered midair.

"Okay," she muttered, grabbing the phone from the vanity. "Let’s go see a man who’s been avoiding me for two weeks... and who might accidentally make me lose the rest of that promised million if this keeps up."

And with that, she got up and headed out the door, armed with an excuse, his phone, and a stomach full of nerves.

"Where are you going?" Jasmine’s voice cut through the air, stopping her mid-stairs.

Daisy didn’t answer. She just glanced over her shoulder and kept walking down.

"Daisy Elise Sinclair! I am talking to you!" Jasmine snapped, her voice rising with anger.

Daisy halted. Slowly, she turned back, eyes narrowing in irritation.

"That’s not my name," she said through gritted teeth. "Daisy. Just Daisy."

"I’m your mom!" Jasmine fired back. "And your father agreed to add Elise to your name because I wanted to name you too! I’m your mother!"

Daisy let out a short, humorless laugh. "So, when you left me... when I was two months old and stayed gone until I was almost two, that was your idea of mothering too?"

"I had postpartum depression!" Jasmine’s voice trembled, but her expression remained hard. "I couldn’t handle it, and your father understood when I told him I needed a break—"

"A break?" Daisy cut in, voice sharp. "Two years is not a break. That’s abandonment."

Jasmine flinched.

"And then you came back, acting like nothing happened," Daisy continued, her voice rising. "And what about after you come back? For years, you barely acted like I existed. And then, when I was nearly eighteen, suddenly, you started showing up like you’re trying to win some award for Best Mother of the Year."

Jasmine’s face tightened, pain flickering in her eyes.

"Don’t," Daisy cut in before she could respond. "Don’t try to rewrite the past now just because you finally decided to care."

She turned and continued down the stairs, one slow step after another, until she reached the last one. Without fully looking back, she muttered under her breath,

"Anyway, there’s nothing left except the debt Dad left behind. So you don’t need to act anymore... I don’t even have a cent left to donate to your performance."

"Wait... you can’t just leave like that—" Jasmine hurried down the stairs and grabbed Daisy’s arm, her voice rising. "Tell me where you put your dad!"

"Let me go!" Daisy yanked her arm back, her eyes blazing. "It’s been more than two weeks, and you’re only asking now? Why? Why now?"

"I’m just asking! I’m his wife... I have a right—"

"Your right disappeared the moment you left him alone with no one to care for him!" Daisy snapped, her voice sharp with fury. "He was lying in bed, helpless. And you? You were too busy treating your so-called emotional wounds and mental health."

The slap came out of nowhere, striking Daisy hard across the face.

Her cheek stung. Her ears rang.

But Daisy?

She didn’t cry. She scoffed and then she smiled, a cold, furious curve of her lips.

"Go ahead. Hit me again if it makes you feel better."

She stepped back, eyes blazing.

"But do us both a favour and just disappear already!" she shouted, her voice rising with years of pent-up anger. "You’re good at that, aren’t you?"

"You..." Jasmine bit her lip, trembling with rage. "Just because your dad spoiled you, you’ve turned into a daughter who doesn’t even know how to respect her own mother..."

Daisy stared at her for a beat longer, her voice calm but cold.

"You know what? Respect works both ways. If you expect me to treat you like a mother... then try acting like one."

She turned and walked to the front door. Her fingers curled around the handle, then paused.

"Just so you know," she added without looking back, "find another place to stay. I’m selling this house to cover some of Dad’s debts."

She yanked the door open but then froze.

Three men stood on the doorstep.

All dressed in matching black leather jackets, their hands tucked into gloves despite the heat. One of them chewed gum lazily, the crackling pop cutting through the silence like a warning. Another tapped something like metal against his palm. The third just stared, his expression looking unreadable, but his eyes sharp with familiarity.

They didn’t smile. They didn’t need to.

She knew exactly what kind of men showed up like this, uninvited, unannounced, and always expecting something in return.

"You must be Miss Daisy Sinclair..."

One of them finally spoke, his voice smooth before flashing a smile that sent goosebumps crawling up her spine.