로그인MABEL"Wait!"Claire's voice cracked. Actually cracked.I'd never heard her sound anything but composed. But now there was desperation in her tone.I stopped at the restaurant entrance. Didn't turn around."Your mother was a thief," Claire said loudly.That made me turn.Claire stood by our table, her perfect composure finally shattered. Her face was flushed. Her hands clenched into fists."What did you say?" I asked quietly."Your mother. Elena. She was a thief." Claire's voice was sharp now. Defensive. "She stole MY designs. Not the other way around."I walked back slowly. "Say that again.""Elena James stole from ME. She had access to my studio. She saw my sketches. And she copied them." Claire's eyes blazed. "Everything she created was based on work she stole from me.""You're lying.""I'm telling the truth! The truth you've been too blind to see!" Claire moved toward me. "Your mother wasn't some innocent victim. She was a copycat. A thief. A plagiarist.""My mother was original….
MABELI started laughing.Not polite laughter. Not restrained. Full, loud laughter that echoed through the expensive restaurant.People stared. I didn't care.Claire stood there, perfectly composed, watching me laugh at her offer."Something amusing?" she asked coolly."You." I wiped my eyes. "You actually think you can buy me off?""Ten million dollars is a substantial amount…""I don't care if it's a hundred million!" I laughed again. "You think I'd sell my son? You think there's a price tag on motherhood?"Claire's expression remained calm. "Everyone has a price, Mabel. The question is whether you're honest enough to admit yours.""Not me.""Really? You're telling me there's no amount of money that would make you walk away?" Claire tilted her head. "I find that hard to believe.""Believe whatever you want." I dropped the torn envelope on the table. "I'm not for sale. My son isn't for sale. And you're delusional if you think money solves everything.""Money solves most things…""Not
MABEL"Wait."Claire's voice stopped me at the restaurant entrance.I turned back. She stood beside our table, composed as ever."We're not finished," she said."Yes, we are.""No. We're not." Claire gestured to my chair. "Sit down. I have an offer to make.""I don't want anything from you…..""You haven't heard it yet." Her voice was calm. Reasonable. "Sit. Five more minutes. Then if you still want to leave, you can."Against my better judgment, I walked back to the table.I didn't sit."Talk," I said.Claire sat, folding her hands on the table. "You're angry. I understand that. You feel wronged. Violated. Robbed of something precious.""I was robbed of something precious. My son.""From your perspective, yes." Claire nodded. "But from mine, I saved my grandson from an unsuitable situation. We see the same events differently.""There's no different way to see kidnapping…""Let me finish." Claire's voice sharpened slightly. "You want justice. Revenge. Whatever you want to call it. You
MABELI stopped walking.Turned back.All the rage I'd been holding in, five years of pain, of searching, of grief, came flooding out."You destroyed my mother," I said, my voice shaking.Claire looked up from her wine. "I beg your pardon?""My mother. Elena James. You destroyed her." I walked back to the table. "You stole her designs. Ruined her career. Drove her to kill herself.""That's a dramatic interpretation….""It's the TRUTH!" My voice rose. Other diners looked over. I didn't care. "She trusted you! She showed you her work! And you stole everything!"Claire's expression remained calm. "Your mother and I had a professional disagreement…""You STOLE from her! You took her designs and filed them as your own! You made her look like the copycat when YOU were the thief!""Business is competitive, Mabel….""It wasn't competition! It was THEFT!" I slammed my hand on the table. Silverware rattled. "She spent months creating those designs! Months of work! And you took them in a day!""
MABELClaire set down her wine glass and looked at me directly."You want me to deny it," she said. "You want me to lie. To claim it was all a misunderstanding. That the baby swap was an accident. That I had no idea what happened.""Did you know?""Of course I knew." She said it simply. Casually. Like admitting she knew the weather forecast. "I orchestrated the entire thing."Even though I'd known it, had evidence of it, hearing her admit it so baldly took my breath away."You're admitting you stole my baby.""I'm admitting I did what was necessary." Claire picked up her fork, examining it as if we were discussing something mundane. "There's a difference.""No. There isn't.""Of course there is." She set the fork down. "Necessary actions aren't always pleasant. But they're required when the alternative is worse.""The alternative being what? Me raising my own son?""Yes. Exactly that." Claire leaned forward slightly. "Mabel, you were twenty-three years old. Barely able to support your
MABELThe restaurant Claire chose was exactly what I expected.Le Bernardin. One of the most expensive restaurants in Manhattan. The kind of place where reservations took months and a single meal cost more than most people's weekly salary.The kind of place that screamed wealth, power, and exclusivity.I gave my name to the hostess."Ms. James. Mrs. Hoss is expecting you. Right this way."She led me through the elegant dining room. White tablecloths. Crystal chandeliers. Hushed conversations. The quiet clink of silverware on expensive china.Everyone here looked like they belonged. Designer clothes. Perfect hair. The casual confidence of people who'd never worried about money.I'd dressed carefully. Navy Armani suit. Louboutin heels. My mother's vintage Cartier watch, one of the few things of hers I still had.I looked like I belonged too. But I felt like an imposter.The hostess stopped at a private table near the back. Secluded. Away from other diners.Claire sat facing the entrance







