“They told me not to.”
“Who?”
“Kloe and Julian.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did they say?”
She swallowed.
“They said if I bothered you, you might sell the house.”
She paused.
“They said I’d have nowhere to go.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“You believed them?”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
Then she whispered:
“I just wanted to keep the family together.”
That sentence broke something inside me.
My mother had spent her entire life protecting her children.
And now she had been protecting the people who were hurting her.
I looked down at the scrub brush.
I picked it up.
Then tossed it into the yard.
“You are never kneeling here again.”
My voice was quiet.
But my mother looked at me differently.
I took her hand.
Then I walked her through the patio doors.
Inside, Kloe was stretched across the living-room sofa, staring at her phone.
Julian stood near the bar, pouring another drink.
Kloe looked up first.
Her face changed immediately.
“Natalie?”
Julian froze.
“What are you doing here?”
Kloe stood.
“You said you weren’t coming back until next month.”
I looked at her.
“I wanted to surprise Mom.”
Julian stared at me.
Then recognition slowly crossed his face.
“Wait.”
He pointed toward me.
“You’re the sister from Dubai?”
I stepped farther into the room.
“I’m the owner of this house.”
Silence.
Then I added:
“And I just heard you call my mother the maid.”
Julian gave a nervous laugh.
He adjusted the collar of his robe.
“You’re taking that out of context.”
“Am I?”
“It was a joke.”
He gestured toward my mother.
“Your mother likes staying busy. It gives her purpose.”
I stared at him for several seconds.
Then I said:
