Mom, Don't Cry! Here comes a new Daddy! novel Chapter 134

< Chapter 119

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Chapter 119

(Sabrina’s POV)

“Sabrina,” Kate continues. “Ethan tells me you’re quite knowledgeable about art.”

“I studied it in college.”

“How lovely. And where did you study?”

“State university. I had a scholarship.”

“State university.” She repeats it the way someone might say “community college” or “online courses.” “Not one of the traditional art schools, then.”

“I couldn’t afford the traditional schools.”

“Of course not. Well. State education can be quite good. Practical.” She takes a sip of her wine. “Tell me, what do you think of the Rothko exhibit at the modern art museum? I assume you’ve been?”

I have been. Took Jake last month. Spent two hours looking at the color fields while he asked why someone would paint big rectangles.

“I think his work is about emotion over form,” I say carefully. “The experience of standing in front of the canvas. The way color can affect mood without representing anything concrete.”

Kate nods. “Adequate analysis. And the current theory on his later works? The dark palette

shift?”

This is a test. I can feel it.

“Some scholars think it reflected his depression. His eventual suicide. Others argue he was exploring the limits of color. Seeing how much he could strip away and still create impact.”

“Which interpretation do you subscribe to?”

“Both. I don’t think they’re mutually exclusive.”

Something flickers in Kate’s eyes. Not approval. But acknowledgment.

Then she shifts. “And what about the Harrison merger? Have you been following the news?”

Business. Something I know less about.

“I’ve seen the headlines,” I admit.

< Chapter 119

“Just the headlines? It’s one of the biggest deals of the year. Surely as Creative Director at Hale Global, you’d have more than a passing interest.”

“My focus is on the creative side. The campaigns. Not the financial strategy.”

“How compartmentalized.” Kate dabs her mouth with her napkin. “In my day, we understood that business is holistic. One can’t truly excel in any area without understanding how all the pieces fit together.”

Ethan’s hand finds mine under the table. Squeezes once.

I squeeze back but don’t look at him.

Down the table, one of the cousins-a man in his forties with Kate’s sharp eyes-says, “I think specialization is the modern approach, Grandmother. Can’t expect everyone to be a generalist.”

“Can’t we?” Kate’s gaze doesn’t leave my face. “When one is representing the Hale name, one should be prepared to discuss any topic that might arise. Art. Business. Politics. Culture. A Hale spouse is more than a specialist. She’s an ambassador.”

She. Not they. Not a spouse.

She.

Like Ethan’s role is already decided and mine is to fit into it.

Jake has been quiet this whole time, cutting his food carefully, trying to be on his best

behavior. But now he looks up.

“Mom knows everything about paintings,” he says. “She’s really smart. She can look at a picture and tell you who made it and when and what it means. She’s the smartest person I

know.”

My heart clenches.

Kate turns her attention to him. “That’s very loyal of you, dear. I’m sure your mother is quite

competent at her job.”

“Mom’s not competent. Mom’s the best.”

“Jake,” I say softly. “It’s okay.”

“But it’s true!” He looks around the table like he’s trying to convince a jury. “She makes all these ads that everyone loves. And she teaches me about art. And she’s really, really good at what she does.”

* Chapter 119

Kate’s expression doesn’t change. I’m certain she is. But you see, Jake, competence in one area doesn’t necessarily translate to the kind of… broader sophistication the Hale family requires.”

The words land like stones.

Jake doesn’t understand them. I can see the confusion on his face.

But I understand them perfectly.

I’m good at what I do. But that’s all I’m good at.

I’m not good enough for their world.

Not sophisticated enough for their table.

Not worthy enough for their name.

Rosalie, sitting a few seats down, leans forward with a sympathetic smile.

“You know, Jake has been sitting so still for so long. That’s impressive for a six-year-old. Maybe I should take him to see the kitchen? The chef here is amazing. He might enjoy seeing how they prepare the food.”

Kate’s eyes snap to her. “The child can sit through a few hours of dinner. This is a formal

occasion.”

“I just thought-” Rosalie starts.

“Children are active by nature. Full of energy. I understand that.” Kate’s tone is patient. Condescending. “Few have the patience to sit still for so long. But discipline is learned. And Jake needs to learn it if he’s to bear the Hale name.”

“Actually,” I say, keeping my voice level, “Jake has excellent manners for his age. He’s been very patient tonight.”

“Has he? I suppose standards vary depending on upbringing.”

The implication is clear.

Your standards aren’t our standards.

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