Left for Dead Came Back for Everything novel Chapter 123

The text message remained glaringly bright on the screen, casting a harsh glow over Gwen's pale face.

"Gwen, why aren't you answering the phone? Are you ignoring your mother?"

Another message popped up immediately after.

"Your sister's engagement party is set for next Saturday at The Metropolitan Peninsula Hotel, six in the evening. You must be there. This is not up for discussion; it is a notification."

And then a third.

"Dress decently. Do not embarrass me."

Three messages. No mention of the word 'daughter', not a single 'how are you doing'. It read exactly like a corporate email sent to a subordinate.

Eliza felt a sharp twist in her chest as she read them.

"Gwen..."

"Ha."

Gwen suddenly let out a laugh.

It was a hundred times more grating than the lighthearted chuckles from when she was mocking Zander.

She tossed her phone onto the coffee table with a sharp clack, then slumped back against the sofa, throwing an arm over her eyes.

"My wonderful mother."

Gwen's tone carried an exaggerated lightness, as if she were telling a joke about a total stranger.

"Three years without a word, and her first move is to issue orders. What, does she think I'm her pet poodle?"

"She hasn't contacted you in three years?" Eliza's brows furrowed.

Gwen pulled her arm away from her eyes and stared up at the ceiling spotlights, her voice dripping with resentment.

"More than three years!"

Her usually bright, vibrant face now wore an expression Eliza had never seen before—a bone-deep exhaustion, like something that had been shattered and haphazardly glued back together.

"Eliza, do you know why my mom divorced my dad?"

Eliza shook her head.

Eliza's fingers dug into the sofa cushions.

"When she first got to France, she called every day. Then once a month, then every two months, then twice a year."

"And then—she got married again in France and had another daughter."

Gwen's voice was barely a whisper when she said that.

"A sister nine years younger than me. Mixed race, absolutely gorgeous. Her name is Joanna."

"When my dad was drunk once, he told me she knits Joanna sweaters by hand. She takes her to ballet classes, picks her up every single day, and her social media is nothing but mother-daughter photos."

Gwen looked down at her fingers, admiring her magenta nail polish.

"Isn't it hilarious? She knits sweaters for someone else, but she doesn't even know my shoe size."

A heavy lump formed in Eliza's throat.

"Gwen..."

"Don't." Gwen held up a hand to stop her. "If you cry right now, I'm going to cry, and that would be humiliating."