The meaning was clear.
Beatrice laughed bitterly. “So that’s it? After everything your father has done for you?”
Miguel finally turned toward her.
“What exactly has he done that my mother didn’t pay for with years of her life?”
Beatrice stepped back as if struck.
Damian said quietly, “Miguel.”
But Miguel was done.
“No. I’m serious. You took the seats she was supposed to have. You sat there like you earned them. But you didn’t help me with applications. You didn’t stay up when I had panic attacks before exams. You didn’t drive me to scholarship interviews. You didn’t explain FAFSA. You didn’t stretch groceries until payday. You didn’t sew my blazer when the sleeve ripped the night before debate finals.”
He looked at Damian.
“And Dad, you didn’t stop her.”
Damian’s face crumpled slightly.
“I didn’t want a scene.”
