LaunchPad. The project I had constructed from the ground up. The organization that flourished while she was away.
I raised my eyes to her face and, for the initial moment, I truly recognized her true colors. The rehearsed voice, the hollow grin, and the chilly, calculated manner she posed as a visitor, not as a parent.
She had not arrived for a reunion; she showed up for the profit she believed she could extract.
“I believe I finally understand everything,” I murmured softly.
My father moved closer, his gaze locked onto my face, entirely ignoring her.
“Genetics do not create a mother, Miranda,” I stated, gripping the genetic paper as though it could burst into flames. “My father brought me up. He cared for me beyond all else. Moreover, he showed me the way to become a good adult. You are simply an unknown person.”
“You are not allowed to—” she started, her look transforming, shock melting into rage.
“I absolutely can,” I responded. “And I am doing it.”
I passed the paperwork right back to her, completely blank.
“You abandoned me previously without considering the fallout. On this occasion, I am the person shutting you out.”
