Chapter 65

"Sophia, can we please talk?" Victoria pleads as I turn to leave.

I stare at her, unsure what she wants. What more is there to say? Haven't we already said and done enough?

"There's nothing left to discuss, Mother," I say firmly.

Looking back, I realize how I always kept her at arm's length. While Isabella and Nathan called them Mom and Dad, to me, they were always Mother and Father. Formal. Distant. Impersonal.

I never truly accepted them as my parents because deep down, I knew the truth. Parents don’t despise their own child. They don’t neglect them or treat them like garbage. The way I addressed them reflected what they were to me—strangers who shared my blood but not my heart.

"Please, I'm begging you," she whispers, tears glistening in her eyes.

It’s surreal seeing her like this—face flushed, expression soft. This isn’t the woman I know. The one who always frowned at me, whose gaze was laced with icy indifference reserved only for me.

"Why don’t you show me to our table while they talk?" Rosalind, Ethan’s mother, suggests to Natalie, cutting off my response.

Natalie hesitates, reluctance clear in her eyes. She knows the Sterlings have never been fond of me, despite the DNA that supposedly ties us together.

Rosalind doesn’t wait. She links arms with Natalie and guides her away, leaving me alone with Victoria.

I exhale sharply and sit down. "Let’s get this over with. You won’t leave me alone until you’ve said your piece, so say it now before I change my mind," I say coldly.

Once, I adored her. When I was five or six, I believed she hung the moon. But that illusion shattered when I realized I was nothing more than a burden to her.

She hesitates before taking the seat across from me, reaching for my hands. I pull away. I don’t want her touch. The part of me that craved her affection died long ago.

"I’m sorry, Sophia. More than you’ll ever know," she whispers, voice breaking.

I stay silent. I used to fantasize about this moment—her apologizing, pulling me into her arms. I prayed for it. But now that it’s here, I feel nothing. No joy. No relief. Just emptiness.

"The way I treated you was wrong. You were just a child, and instead of loving you, I pushed you away. You loved us, and we gave you nothing but scorn. If I could go back, I’d change everything. I’d be the mother you deserved," she continues, tears streaming down her face.

"I never saw your worth. I never realized how incredible you are. It took almost losing you to understand how much you mean to me."

She’s sobbing now. The old me would’ve been moved. But not now. Her tears mean nothing.

Twenty-five years of pain can’t be erased by a few tears. It would take a miracle to undo that damage.

"Let’s skip the theatrics, okay? If this is about my mother’s threat to your company, we can discuss it like adults. No need for the emotional manipulation—it won’t work. Just tell me the real reason you wanted to talk," I say flatly.

Hurt flashes in her eyes, but I don’t care. She’s hurt me for decades. This is nothing compared to what I’ve endured.

Besides, I know why she’s here. It’s not about me—it’s about saving the Sterling empire.

"It hurts that you’d think that of me. That you’d believe my apology is just a ploy to save the company. But I have no one to blame but myself. My actions made me untrustworthy in your eyes."

Looking at her now, it’s hard to believe she’s the same woman who screamed at me for the smallest mistakes. Who made me feel invisible. This heart-to-heart is unsettling—we’ve never had one before.

"I truly want your forgiveness. I want to be your mother in every way. I want to rebuild what I destroyed."

I sigh. "I don’t mean to be cruel, but first—you’re not my mother. The DNA test in my safe proves that. Second, that ship sailed years ago. You and me? Close? Never happening. And lastly, I don’t want you in my life. In fact, I’d prefer if you and your children kept ignoring me like I don’t exist. You’ve done it for thirty years—it shouldn’t be hard to continue."

Some might call me ungrateful. Maybe I am. But the things they gave me were material. What I needed was love. Knowing what I know now, I’d have been better off in an orphanage.

"Please don’t say that. Don’t say it’s too late," she whispers desperately.

"But it is. You’re twenty-five years too late."

She wipes her tears, determination hardening her features. "I won’t give up on you, Sophia. You’re still my daughter, and I’ll do anything to earn your love back."

I rub my temples, feeling a migraine coming on.

I don’t respond as she stands. She can cling to her delusions all she wants—nothing will change my mind. The love I once had for her is dead, and it’s not coming back.

"Before I go, I want to give you this. Your father asked me to before he died. I never had the chance."

I don’t acknowledge her. She sighs and places something on the table before walking away.

Only when she’s gone do I look.

My breath catches.

It’s a piece of paper.

With bloody fingerprints.

And then it hits me.

This is the same paper I saw William handing her before his surgery.