21st ♕

"We are tracking down the source of the call. Yes, I know. There's no need to remind me about what's going on. I'll call again. Bye," Bridge said, taking a deep breath before plunging into another call. "No comment. What? Look, if that's what you're thinking, I can't do anything about it. Unless yes, unless I'll send you to the hospital for brain surgery."

Everything was clearly not okay.

One moment, someone took a picture of me holding my half-brothers, with my hair and shirt in absolute mess. I was too stunned to even process what was going on. The next, Art and I were forcefully dragged to the palace; my family was relocated to a hotel room.

"This is the palace's hotline. Yes and no. We have no comment," Famy said, circling the phone line around her slender fingers.

Lisbeth slammed the phone she had been assigned to its receiver, before realizing what she'd done. "Sorry! He was just outright rude! I can't take this anymore."

"But hon, you got a hundred more call waiting," Jen specified to her, taking a deep breath, before picking up her phone again. "Let me hear some more amusing human thoughts."

Even Lenora's assistants were answering the endless phone calls directed to the palace's public hotline. Two hours ago, the public hotline only got one caller, who was looking for her missing cat. It turned out that the acrobatic cat belonged to an elderly lady, who lived a few streets from Winterlace Palace. Thankfully, Jack picked up the cat again and delivered it to its owner before her calls were categorized as 'Georgiette File'.

The media wanted to get the first scoop on what I would say. That was why they had secured me in Winterlace Palace, before anyone would get the chance to take another picture of me. With or without half-brothers. Or extra moms.

"The call came from the shelter where you're working at," Bridge said, glancing at my direction while holding a call. She said thank you to the caller, before putting dow the phone. Walking over to me, she added, "The caller told the pizza parlor that that his name was Pete. But Lenora already confirmed that they were having lunch together, so that couldn't possibly happen. We did check the CCTV at the shelter. Guess who called?"

I shrugged, having no clue.

"Robin Marc," Bridge informed me, shaking her head.

"What would he gain from doing that? Why did he suddenly send the pizza guy to our house?" I asked.

"From the other CCTV recordings, it seemed like he saw your mom stop by at the convenience store near your house. Coincidentally, your other mom, Hannah, was also there, buying things. Robin must have had overheard their conversation. Then putting two and two together, he'd decided to mess up things for you," Bridge said.

"Ah." I frowned. Mom no. 1 and 2 did meet first at the convenience store, before going to our house. "I seriously have no idea what's his motive."

"Temporary fame," Bridge answered. "And I'm very disappointed with Jack."

"Please don't take this all out on him," I said. "They've been busy holding back the reporters. The pizza dude only managed to slip in the perimeter by entering a broken fence that only a few in our block knows."

"It's their job. Jack and the others would be reprimanded. He's currently on a meeting with his department head. Let's just hope his punishment won't be permanent," Bridge said, feeling my worries.

I nodded, smiling a bit as we hoped for the best.

"I'll get back to you later. I still have to answer calls," Bridge said to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, before she answered another phone that was ringing.

Walking around the hotline room—which was also used as a damage control area in cases of news breakout like this—near the security department, I saw several printouts from the ink-jet printer falling to the floor. No one was paying attention to the printouts, so I picked them up.

They were internet articles:

Crazy Princess-In-Training! Have We Avoided The Worst?

A Teenage Mother! No One Saw This Coming! Who Is The Father?

NEWS FLASH: Prince Arthur And The Princess-In-Training Have Children!

A junior assistant hastily picked up the other printouts, and I gave her the rest of the papers that I was holding. I wondered what the other articles were saying. The junior assistant mumbled a quick apology, before she went to the press office. I guessed that there were several more meetings simultaneously taking place about what I'd done.

"George, come see this for a minute," Bridge called my attention.

Walking over to the backroom, I asked, "Why?"

"Your mom." Bridge turned on the television, maximizing the volume. It was loud inside the hotline room. All the phones were ringing non-stop. She left the door open, and Lenora's assistants, curious, followed us inside.

At first, I couldn't believe what I was hearing or what my eyes were seeing. It was definitely Mom no. 1, in a heavy purple dress, talking to a familiar reporter. The reporter, tall and lanky with black rimmed glasses, was the same one who once showed me a picture of the twins several weeks ago.

"Oh, shit. What is she doing there?" I rambled to myself.

The reporter asked, "How do you feel that your daughter is the princess-in-training?"

"I was really surprised when she told me the news this afternoon," Mom no. 1 answered, placing a timid laugh here and there.

"And interestingly enough, she never mentioned that she has another mom. So does that mean the mother she told us about is her adoptive parent?" the reporter went on, looking up from his notes.

"Yes," Mom no. 1 replied. "I'm the real mom."

What was she thinking? It was painful to see how she never used her head for a minute and think where her actions would take her. She didn't even tell me anything. I knew it was my fault for not saying a word about all this before, but I expected at least a little bit of consideration from her. But what did I want to happen? For Mom no. 1 to change just because I was the princess-in-training?

Funny ideas.

"I thought we secured her in a hotel?" Bridge was talking on her phone, irritated. She pressed the recording and went to the hotline room, but I could still hear what she was saying on the phone. "What? Well, I don't care if she wanted to go shopping. I don't know. Tie her up? Seriously, what kind of person just... I know. Human rights and whatever, but she's ruining everything. We're doing all we can to contain the situation and make the right move. But no, she will just go ahead and create a scene? Just..."

Then Bridge was out of hearing range.

I focused on the TV again, taking a deep breath.

"Tell me, what do you think drove her to lie about her family?" The reporter adjusted his glasses, carefully looking at Mom no. 1 and waiting for her answer.

"Well, Georgey's a really shy girl, even from before. Over the years, she only had few friends and never wanted to talk about, you know," Mom no. 1 paused, making a hand gesture, "feelings."

"She does have an interesting personality."

"But she does tell me everything about her life, the guys she dated, and things like that. We have a solid bond, mother and daughter, despite her being adopted and what the papers are saying. I know deep in my heart that my daughter and I are really close," Mom no. 1 said with enough conviction.

"I could see that," the reporter replied. That was one sarcasm Mom no. 1 hadn't even noticed.

"And I am very proud of her, for making it this far! I would have never guessed. She was always the boyish one. I'm glad that she's a changed person now. Those dresses really suit her. You could see whom she took it from, right? Ha-ha-ha."

"True. You're a very lovely lady yourself, Mrs. Elliot. Back to Georgiette's—"

"You have to forgive her for not overcoming her shyness," Mom no. 1 said, cutting him off. "Things just don't go away in a swoosh!"

"Shyness?" the reporter repeated, disbelievingly. "Was that really the reason why she didn't tell everyone that she actually has two mothers, two brothers, and a very complicated set-up? I'm very sure we'd have understood."

"When I see her later, I'll ask her for you. I'm going to give you a ring after, what do you think?" Mom no. 1 offered him.

"That would be wonderful, Mrs. Elliot."

"Oh, please, just call me Megan," Mom no. 1 said back.

"Thank you for being here, Megan. We're very glad that you could make it on such a short notice," the reporter said, shaking Mom no. 1's hand.

"It's my pleasure. Call me anytime. I love things like this," Mom no. 1 snorted and burst out laughing. "I'm sorry. I'm just... it must be the champagne."

The reporter raised his eyebrows knowingly, before composing himself and continuing, "So there you have it, folks. We finally know what's going on. Our princess-in-training finally showed her true colors. What do you think? Did she finally commit an unforgivable act and would this be the basis for her disqualification—"

"Wait!" Mom no. 1 interrupted him. "What disqualification?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Elliot. But can you please let go of my suit?" The reporter politely tried to take Mom no. 1's hand away from the sleeve of his black suit. Then looking away from the camera, he quickly called, "Someone? Can you please give Mrs. Elliot a glass of water?"

A crew appeared at the scene, and Mom no. 1 was led away from the platform.

"Whew, someone had too much champagne," the reporter teased. "So that was our princess-in-training's real mom. We're very lucky that she made time for us tonight. We're finally enlightened about the mysterious side of our very shy PIT. Tune in for more news about the princess search. This is Schmidt, and it's Chit-Chat, your favorite weekend celebrity program."

Accordingly, in Mom no. 1's daydream, I was shy, which led to me lying about it. For the record, I was thick-faced most of the time. Like how I made sure I would get a job if it meant I'd send the entire Trivia into disarray.

Now everyone also knew that I had an alcoholic mother, who might or might not need to see a psychiatrist. Plus, I was a liar. I only wanted the money. Somehow, I really hated where I stood right now.

Lenora's assistants were all whispering behind me. Famy placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, gently squeezing. "We had a meeting before helping around here. Lenora told us about your mom. That mom. George, we don't believe her a bit, we promise. Sure, all of us had one or two things we'd rather not talk about."

"But it still doesn't mean that it's okay." I kept my words few. I didn't want to keep on talking about this, because talking made me think. And thinking reminded me of the commotion I'd created, and how it had affected everyone around me.

"Oh hon, your hands," Jen noticed, tightly clasping my hands in hers. "You're shaking."

"I'll get you a cup of water." Lisbeth disappeared into the hotline room, where the water dispenser was placed. She came back shortly after, giving me a paper cup. "Here, take it. Drink. You're trembling."

"Thank you," I stammered, taking a sip.

"Are you okay, Georgiette?" Bridge entered the room, a ringing phone in her hand. "What happened? Do you need to see a doctor? You're pale as a ghost. Why is she shaking?"

"I'm okay," I said, taking a deep breath. No, I wasn't going to create anymore drama. I was going to be all right. Sometimes, you just got to have enough willpower when there wasn't anything else you could bet your life with.

"Please leave us for a minute. And also please close the door when you go out," Bridge told Lenora's assistants.

They all nodded, exiting the room after throwing me apologetic looks. When the door closed, Bridge sat on the leather couch beside me. And the most unexpected thing happened—she pulled me into a hug. I wasn't used to Bridge hugging me out of nowhere, so I instinctively flinched.

She didn't mind that I had frozen in place. Instead, she told me, "It's hard to make yourself okay when the circumstances are against it. I'm sorry for what you're going through, Georgiette. Yes, I'm mad that you didn't tell us this earlier. But there's nothing we can do about it, you know? It already happened."

"Aren't you going to go on an all out war with me?"

She eased up the hug, only placing a solid arm around me as her eyes searched the television again. "No. You got the entire Triavia doing exactly that to you right now."

"That's expected."

"People always think that they already got everything figured out. Like they'd hear a simple news, a glimpse of a person's life, and they would act like they'd hated that person their entire life."

"That's how it goes standing from here."

"No, Georgiette," Bridge corrected me, "it's how it goes wherever you stand."

"It's hard when everyone's looking at you. I wish they'd just ignore me. I'm nobody."

"Everyone's saying that you wanted the attention and that you're enjoying that they talk about you. Like you actually did this on purpose so that your coronation would be the most talked about event of the year," Bridge informed me.

"Exactly what I'm not trying to do," I said.

"True. What they don't understand that is that for people like us, we don't want anything grand or out of the ordinary. We're too scarred to ask for anything else other than to be normal. To be like everybody else. So that they won't look at us. They won't pity us. They won't judge us and poke right where it hurts. We just want to be so ordinary that no one will notice."

I sniffed. "And it's the hardest thing in the world."

Bridge laughed softly. "But some, like you, are destined to shine. For a purpose, perhaps. We should start sending you out there, so the world would have an option to see a real person with a life story to share, instead of just seeing stupid people make scene and steal cameras. The world seriously needs an alternative."

"My life story isn't that interesting," I replied, looking at the TV again. They kept on showing my picture with the twin, debating what would and what should happen. "And look at what they're saying. I would likely be taken out of the spotlight very soon."

"I don't know what the decision would be. I'm not unrealistic. I also know that you're likely to be disqualified'

"It might happen soon," I said.

"But at some point, you have to stand up for yourself, George," Bridge told me. "Princess-to-be or not, you have to show the world who you really are. You know, deep in your heart, that you are not that person they're all dissecting in the news. I believed in that girl who passionately talked about the animal shelter and gave her best in learning everything as the princess-in-training. And as long as you don't lose sight of that girl, you'll be fine."

I asked her, "So what happens now, Bridge?"

"You're going to make a recording. An explanation of what's going on. And like you said in your letter, a public apology. We would air it and see how the public will react."

"Okay."

"And in the meantime, the palace counselors want you to pack your bags while they discuss if you're going to be disqualified," she said. "You're currently suspended."

"I see." Okay, this was what was supposed to happen. There was nothing to be surprised about.

"I'm sorry about all this. And please make sure that you have a talk with your other mom. Please tell her not to stir any more attention at your expense," Bridge said, her tone wasn't soft but it wasn't harsh either. It was how you break the truth, slowly and upfront.

And I understood where this was all going.

♔~♕

After I had taped the recording with Bridge in her office upstairs, I went to my room and started packing my things. My clothes weren't plenty. Mostly, they were from Lenora. I only borrowed them for a while.

I still hadn't heard from Art. He was having a meeting together with the palace counselors. I really hoped nothing bad would happen to Jack.

A knock came on the door, while I was zipping my fifth suitcase, which contained Lenora's shoes. I wondered who it was. Tucking in the white blouse that I wore for the recording into the mint bow skirt that Famy said looked good on me, I opened the door.

"Your Majesty," I said quickly, bowing my head in greeting.

"Hi. Can I come in?" the Queen asked, smiling at me. She was wearing a navy blue woman's suit, and it suited the color of her eyes. "Would that be okay?"

"Sure. I mean, yes, please," I replied, stumbling with the words.

"There's no need to be nervous around me, George," the Queen replied, having a clear view of the room. "You're packing up your things already?"

"Yes, I should be down in half an hour," I said, carefully.

She took a seat on my bed. "Your closet looks nice. It can make anyone feel young. I used to have that wide variety of colors before. Now all they give me are black and dark blue."

"They look nice on you," I replied, clasping my hands together and placing them in front of me.

"I hate these colors," the Queen admitted, making a sour face.

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I didn't say a word. In my thoughts, the Queen was impeccable. To be able to see her preferences and this other side of her, it left me speechless. But at the same time, it added more color and depth to the picture of her that I had in my mind.

"I'm just a person, too, you know, even if all I wear are these horrible clothes. But don't tell my stylists. Lenora, particularly. This is more of her everyday style than mine," she confessed.

"What colors do you like?" I timidly asked, unsure if it was the right way to keep up with this conversation.

"All the colors of the rainbow. I like that skirt of yours. See? I like that huge bow in front. It adds character to the whole thing," the Queen said, pointing to the large—in my opinion, out of place—ribbon on my skirt.

"It's mostly weird," I slipped out.

She quietly laughed. "There, I finally see the real you."

I blushed. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

"No, no," she corrected me right away, holding a hand up. "I want you to show me the real you. I already told you that I dislike like wearing this navy blue suit. This would make national news. What more could I have told you?"

I was trying not to laugh, but the Queen—who would have thought—was making funny faces. "It's been an honor knowing you, Your Majesty."

"Me too. I'm glad I've met you. I hope this won't be our last meeting," she said.

"I'm sorry for the ruckus I've caused. I just couldn't bring myself to admit how much a wreck I was at first," I said, bowing my head again in apology.

"All of us are," she reassured me. "And we did a background check on you, George. I just want to tell you that. This isn't news to me anymore."

My heart started to beat out of sync. I wasn't sure if I was mortified or scared stiff. "How long..."

With her warm smile, she continued, "I actually asked for a background check. Mom's duty, so don't take it personally. I'd also done this with Will. It was understood that the queen would be the one who would overlook through the entire process, including background check."

"So you already know..." I faltered.

The queen nodded in response, saying, "The process is confidential, meaning I'm the only one who knows, and of course, the private investigator. But don't worry, it was not him who handed the information to the media. I also had it checked. It was also your former classmate, Robin Marc. Robin was approached by the reporter, who had a scoop with your mom a while ago, after he falsely claimed being in a secret relationship with you. The reporter paid Robin and asked for information in return."

I hesitated, "Can I just say how much I want to beat Robin right now?

The Queen replied, "I would expect that much."

"He better not cross my way," I added in disgust, clenching my hand. Then realizing that Queen Elicia was still in my room, I quickly composed myself. "I'm so sorry. And even after everything I've done, you're still kind to me."

"Everyone has their reasons. I've withheld my judgment, because I also thought it wouldn't matter. Both of your parents are already married. Legally speaking, it shouldn't. I heard a thing or two about your biological mother, but I didn't expect her to do that. I couldn't imagine," the Queen replied, shaking her head.

"I knew that she would do that if she found out. It's still my fault," I said, lowering my head in embarrassment.

"George, you can't take responsibility for everyone. You're just one person. You're only eighteen, and you work hard like you're already raising your own family. And all you said was the truth. Hannah, by law, is your mother. By law, you also don't have any brothers. So it's also the truth. I'm not the one to judge because of what a person doesn't tell me."

"I didn't tell the real deal because I was desperate," I confessed, my voice breaking midway. "My family always felt weird to me. It was the only way out."

She held her affectionate gaze at me. "The only way to get rid of your ghost is to set it free. It's as if you're intently hiding a sharp object in your hand. As long as you're hiding it, it will keep on hurting you. So you need to let it go. You have to let your wound heal."

After a moment, I replied, "I'm not sure how I'll do it."

"You gather all the courage you have deep inside you, and then you just do it," the Queen said to me. "I just want to tell you that. And there's someone standing outside the door. I'm sure he's dying to talk to you. Art, you can come in now."

"Busted." Art stepped out.

"Were you standing there the whole time?" Like, while I was moping and standing in awe in front of his mother?

"We came together. She told me to give her a minute first," Art explained.

"I wanted to tell George that before she goes her way. We'll miss you here," Queen Elicia told me.

Art noticed the suitcases. "Are you really leaving?"

"I'm going down," Queen Elicia said. "Art, see her off properly, okay?"

Art answered, "What else could I do than just see her off, no?"

"What else, yes?" the Queen repeated his words. Then turning to me, she added, "Until we see each other again, George."

"Thank you for taking care of me these past weeks," I replied.

"Our pleasure. You've always been my favorite among the group. Take care of yourself," the Queen told me, placing a hand on my arm.

"So that's the rest of your things?" Art scanned the empty room that was once filled with people, racks of clothes, and memories. Pointing outside the full-length windows, he added, "Hey, remember our birthday together? We talked outside that veranda."

My face relaxed into a smile.

"I never saw you wear the bracelet again." Art reached out for my hand. I didn't answer. "By chance, you didn't throw it away, no?"

"No, I've kept it," I assured him, but unable to promise that I would wear it again. Should you still wear a keepsake when it was all over?

He nodded. "So are you ready to go down?"

"I'll just change my clothes. You can wait for me downstairs," I said, about to add that I would take care of the bags, but I let him take two suitcases with him. Well, it wasn't like I could take all five of them in one go.

Grabbing my preferred change of clothes among the ones I'd packed, I went to the bathroom and put on a chambray top. I folded the sleeves of my top to three-fourths, put on my backpack, and hauled the remaining suitcase with me, locking the door as I went down.

"Jack!" I exclaimed when I saw him waiting for me downstairs. He took the suitcase from me. "What did they say?"

Jack smiled. "It went fine, Princess. I'll wait for you in the car."

"Good. That's really good." I exhaled, enough to let me calm down for a minute.

Jack closed the backdoor when he got out. I saw Art leaning on the wall near the window, waiting for me. Hero was also there, barking happily. It was just like the first day I saw them; that one time I'd mistook Art to be blind and he went along with it. The day I'd lost a bet with Victhur Arzen. I wondered what my good old pal was doing right now, without even knowing that winning a bet he didn't even know about led me to an entirely different world.

I tried to keep a smile, even if all I wanted was for this day—this farewell—to be over. We failed; it was written all over his face. No hatred, no unspoken judgment. But it could sometimes hurt more, when there was no one to blame. When the reason why it didn't work out was because it couldn't.

Art opened his arms. "Here, no complications."

Holding tight the straps of my backpack, I walked over to him. Placing my arms around him, I said, "I'm going to miss you."

Art buried his head in my hair. "Can I still call you?"

"No," I told him, avoiding his eyes. "We're good with no complications."

"Okay, if that's what you want. But you can call me if you need help. They're not going to let this go easily. So promise to call when you're in trouble?" Art said, looking in my eyes.

"Yeah, okay," I muttered.

"There we go, you won't call." He raised his head slightly.

"What—"

"I know you, George. Just promise me you would call me when you need help. You can also call me if you want me to come running to your arms." Art grinned.

I closed my eyes, laughing. "You know I won't do that."

"Fine. Just the first one will do," he said, settling.

"Promise," I whispered back, as I let my grip on him go. But he held back. When I looked up to his face, I knew what he wanted. I also knew what I wanted. But I always fought against gravity, even if it had the tendency to hold me back. "No complications, remember?"

Art unhurriedly backed off, laughing. "Then what's next? We'll just be friends?"

"I don't want to be friends with you," I said warily.

Art raised his eyebrows. "So what does that mean?"

"You know what it means. But if one day we'll be one, then so be it. For now, I'm not good with being friends. There are too many feelings left," I said to him. "And I should go."

"Where are you going to stay again?"

"Burchett Hotel. Bridge had arranged the place, until we could go home. There are at least a hundred reporters waiting outside our house right now."

"What can I say? You're famous. Say hello to your parents for me, whichever one you like," Art said after a moment.

"Don't worry, I have plenty. Bye," I said, waving a hand as I stepped closer to the backdoor, where a car was waiting outside.

"See you soon."

I said noncommittally, "See you."

As I finally got enough courage to turn back and walk to the car, I heard Hero barking at me again. It would have been easier to cry, but I took the toughest path again. I kept still and saved the tears for another hour. I hated making people worry, especially those who were dear to me.

"Are you okay, Princess?" Jack asked, adjusting the rearview mirror.

Clearing my voice, I replied, "I'm fine. How did the meeting go?"

"I got a sanction I liked, Princess. Don't worry about it," Jack said dismissively.

"What sanction?"

"You'll see. Are you sure you didn't leave anything else behind?"

My heart, yeah. "Got everything here."

"Are you sure?" Jack adjusted the rearview mirror again.

"Okay. Fine. I left a very important part of me right there at the door, but I can't take him with me," I admitted, throwing my hands in the air. "That would be kidnapping."

"Not if he would come with you." Jack would make me shed tears at this rate. He started the engine. "I'm sorry about that, Princess. Let's go. Just remember that as long as you know what you've lost, you will know what to look for."

"I hate you sometimes for being so right," I said to Jack, looking in the rearview mirror that he adjusted and seeing exactly what I lost.

"We should continue doing yoga, Princess."

"Yes, that's a great idea." As we were out of the palace's bounds, I felt an overwhelming sense of liberty. A liberty that I wasn't sure I still wanted.

♔~♕

We went straight to the underground parking lot of Burchett Hotel. Jack got out first and made sure that the coast was clear, and then he opened the car door for me.

"I'll take care of the bags later, Princess."

"You're not going back to the palace?" I asked him. He only smiled in response. "Aren't you also supposed to go? I'm not the princess-in-training anymore."

"This is why I like my sanction, Princess. They told me to guard the suspended princess-in-training instead," Jack answered me, pushing back his sunglasses.

A wide grin crept on my lips. "My life is boring now. You sure you still like this?"

"Not boring at all, Princess. You have the most exciting life I've known."

"How long will you be staying?"

"Hopefully, long enough," Jack replied, leading the way.

The hotel was fancy. And if they would deduct the bill to my salary, I would probably end up with a debt by the end of our stay here. I needed to get a new job, but it wasn't the best idea right now. Heartbroken and publicly humiliated, I admired how I still got that sense of perpetuity.

My phone rang as we were inside the elevator. First instinct: it might be Art. But it was an unknown number. And even if I shouldn't be answering unknown numbers, I still did.

Gut feeling.

"Hello?" I said, pressing the phone to my ear.

"George?" asked the voice on the other line. His voice was unfamiliar and muffled, like he was in a moving vehicle.

"Who is this?" I politely asked.

"It's Roger," was not the reply that I'd expected.

♔~♕

Coincidentally enough, when Jack opened the hotel room for me, I saw Mom no. 1 fixing her hair in front of the huge mirror beside the door. The suite that Bridge had arranged for us had two rooms. One was for Mom no. 1 and the twins. The other was for Mom no. 2 and Dad and an extra bed for me. But after Roger's call, I'd likely have a room for myself by tomorrow.

"Georgey! Lovely to see you. How's the palace?" Mom no. 1 asked, ever so casually. Liar. Liar. The word kept on repeating in my head.

Jack excused himself and shut the door behind me.

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked her.

"I asked your dad to take the twins to the playroom downstairs. I'm all over the places. Appointments here and there," Mom no. 1 gladly informed me.

"How nice," I said, in a deadpan tone.

She didn't seem to notice the sarcasm. "They invited me to this late dinner. It will be fun. There will be a lot of reporters. I can't wait to get interviewed. Tell me, do I look okay? Should I add more glam to my eyes, honey?"

"You're not going anywhere, Mom. Put down the curler," I told her, blocking the door.

This time, she actually understood what I was saying. "Did I hear that right?"

"Yeah, so take off Lenora's dress that I'm sure you took from Hannah's things and remove that heavy make-up," I firmly replied.

Mom no. 1 eyed me suspiciously. "This princess title really got in your head, didn't it? You now talk to your mother like that? You think you own me? You think you own the world now? You don't want me to tell the reporters all this, Georgey."

"Tell them. The hell I care. Go ahead, grab your phone, and tell them," I urged her. She frowned, displeased with me. "Why aren't you getting your phone? I have mine here. Do you want to use it? Do you want to call your husband?"

"Oh, silly. I'm sure he doesn't have time for all this. He's happy with that girl he's seeing for months now," Mom no. 1 replied, putting down the curler and grabbing her silver pouch. That was also Lenora's bag, and I hope that and the dress were the only ones she took.

"Stop lying," I finally said, getting frustrated.

She was about to reach for the door, but she stopped. "What?"

"You heard me. Stop lying. Roger called," I said to her.

"I don't know what you're saying. I'm going—"

I held her back, forcefully grabbing her arm. "Roger called and told me what happened. And no, he's not cheating on you. You were the one who had a fling with your boss, and he was the one who found out about it. That was why you came here."

"I seriously don't know what you're saying, Georgiette."

"Really?" I screamed. "Do you keep on living your life like that? You wake up each day and think, 'Oh, I'm going to be a selfish and irrational person today.'"

"Stop it."

"Can you please just be a mother, and stop thinking that the world is only waiting for you to be famous? You have the twins. They're so young. Please don't make them go through where I've been through. I swear, if you will disown them for another freaking guy, I'm never going to talk to you again."

"Georgey, please don't make this hard for both of us. I just want to have some fun tonight. Why are we talking about—"

"You keep on going around in circles," I said, yelling. "I'm sorry that you lost your chance. I'm sorry you had to have me. I'm sorry you've chosen me. I'm sorry that it's destroying you right now. But we all have our fair share of ruined chances and broken lives. It's how it goes. Get over it and think about the twins, please. Be the mother you never were to me. You will soon run out of children to make it up with."

Her lower lip was trembling and she tried to reach out to me. "Georgey honey, I'm sorry... I..."

I cut her off. I didn't want to hear her voice right now. "Roger will be here in two hours. And Mom, don't even think of running away. I have a bodyguard outside the door, and you can't babytalk him to get your way. Unless you're a cat doing acrobatics."

In front of me, I saw that the door of our room was open. Mom no. 2 was standing there, looking proud of me. And that was it. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. I'd reached the limit of being too broken. I left Mom no. 1 to Jack's watch, running over to my mother.

"Mom!" I said, burrowing myself in Mom no. 2's arms.

And I was home.