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Nora's POV
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2026-04-13 15:54:31Chapter 3
Nora’s POV
The afternoon sun beat down on the taxi windshield as I raced toward Steps & Stars Dance Academy. My head throbbed in time with the ticking meter.
I had already spent two hours at the tailor, standing in a cramped back room while the man fumbled with the hem of Caleb’s tuxedo. Then I had rushed to the Magnolia Grand to fix the seating chart the event manager had misplaced. I was only halfway through the list when my phone vibrated.
It was Mia.
“Mom? Everyone is gone. The teacher is locking up the gate,” her small voice trembled.
My heart dropped. “Mia, honey, I’m so sorry. Stay right by the security booth. I’m coming.”
I dialed Tara right away. She was supposed to be only ten minutes away.
“Tara, please,” I said the moment she answered. “I’m stuck across town running errands for your father. Can you pick up your sister? She’s waiting alone.”
“Ugh, Mom, seriously?” Tara’s voice dripped with annoyance. “I’m at the café with the girls. I can’t just leave. It’s social suicide to be the babysitter on a Friday afternoon.”
“Tara, she is your sister and it’s getting dark!” The frustration I had been swallowing for years finally spilled out. “For once, stop thinking about yourself and do something for this family!”
Click. She hung up on me.
“I’m done,” I whispered to the empty air. “I am so done.”
I left the seating chart unfinished at the Magnolia Grand. I didn’t care if Caleb’s precious investors ended up in the kitchen. I wasn’t going to leave my youngest child standing on the street alone. I hailed the taxi and headed straight for the academy. I told myself I would finish the rest of the errands early tomorrow morning while Caleb was at his “meetings.” He wouldn’t even have to know.
By the time Mia and I walked through the front door of the Willow Creek house, it was nearly 5:00 p.m. Mia clutched her dance bag tightly, her eyes still red from crying.
“I’m sorry, Mia,” I said, kneeling to hug her. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
The next two hours passed in a blur. I hung Caleb’s tuxedo perfectly in the hall closet. I started dinner — a roast with potatoes, because the house had better smell like a home when he walked in. I ate a few bites with Mia, listened to her talk about her new dance routine, then sent her upstairs to do homework.
After a quick shower, I sat in the living room in the quiet. No TV. Just silence and the weight of the day pressing on my chest.
At 6:30 p.m. the front door swung open. Tara walked in swinging shopping bags, eyes glued to her phone. She glanced up, saw me, and tried to slip past toward the stairs.
“Stop right there,” I said. My voice was low, but it carried a new weight that made her freeze.
“What now, Mom? I’m tired,” she snapped, not even looking at me.
“Where were you?” I stood up and walked toward her. “Your sister needed you. You couldn’t take ten minutes to pick her up, but you had time to go to three different stores?”
“I told you, I was with my friends,” she said, finally meeting my eyes with the same cold stare as her father. “God, you’re so clingy. Why are you acting so weird lately?”
She turned to leave, but I grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “I am talking to you, Tara! I am your mother, not a piece of furniture you can ignore!”
Tara’s face twisted with rage. She yanked her arm free and stepped closer, screaming now. “You’re not a mother! You’re just a servant who lives in our house! Do you have any idea how embarrassing you are? My friends’ moms are CEOs and lawyers — they look high-class! They don’t walk around in Target leggings smelling like onions and floor cleaner!”
Each word stung like poison.
“I am tired of pretending you’re someone important,” she spat. “You’re nothing, Mom. Dad says it, and everyone knows it. I can’t wait to go to college so I don’t have to look at your pathetic face anymore!”
My hand moved before my brain could stop it.
SLAP!
The sound cracked through the quiet house like a gunshot. Tara’s head snapped to the side. For a second the silence was terrifying.
She touched her reddening cheek, eyes wide with shock. Then fury took over. Tears of pure rage filled her eyes.
“I hate you!” she shrieked. “I wish you were dead!”
She bolted up the stairs, sobs echoing behind her. I stood frozen, my palm still stinging. I had never hit her. Not once in seventeen years.
I took a shaky breath and turned toward the front door — only to realize I wasn’t alone.
Caleb stood in the entryway.
He held his briefcase, face pale with shock and a dark anger I had never seen before. He had seen everything. The woman he called a “placeholder” had finally struck back.
“Nora?” His voice was dangerously calm. He set the briefcase down slowly, eyes locking onto mine with a look that promised trouble. “Did you just lay a hand on my daughter?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came.
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