Hailee's POV
Mother pulled away and flashed me one of her usual charming smiles, but I didn't respond. I just had a blank look on my face. I saw no need to pretend to be happy when clearly I was not. Mother must have noticed the blank look on my face because her smile died down and was replaced with a look of concern. She cupped my face and studied it, her sea-blue eyes—which I inherited from her—staring right into me.
"You don't seem happy to be back home after all these years," she whispered.
I frowned, my chest tightening with old, buried anger. "And why should I be happy, Mother?" I spat the word like poison. I hated calling her that. A mother wouldn't have hardened her heart to the cries of her own daughter the way she had. A mother wouldn't have left me feeling like an orphan even while she lived. To me, my real mother was Violet—my nanny. She was the one who held me when I cried, who listened, who cared. She was more of a mother than my own blood could ever be.
