Page 46 of Wild Daddy

"And who is that?" my mother demands.

"Someone brave enough to tell the truth. Someone willing to risk everything for authentic connection." I glance back at Cade, standing now, suit pulling tight across his shoulders, watching me with such pride it makes my chest tight. "Someone who knows the difference between being educated and being alive."

My parents gather their things, my mother's movements sharp with betrayal, my father's silence heavy with disappointment. They're almost to the door when Cade's voice cuts across the room.

"That's it?" His voice is low, dangerous. "My girl just gave the most fucking courageous presentation I've ever seen, and you're walking out?"

My father turns, face flushed. "Courageous? She's... this is..." He gestures helplessly at the room. "This isn't what we planned. What we worked for."

"Your girl?" Cade takes a step forward, and even in the suit, he looks like he could snap my father in half. "She was never yours to plan for. You took a brilliant little girl and turned her into a performing monkey."

My mother's voice goes shrill. "We gave her violin lessons, AP classes, SAT tutoring—everything she needed to succeed. Do you have any idea what we sacrificed?"

"You sacrificed her." Cade's voice drops to a growl. "Took everything beautiful about her and made it conditional. Made her think she had to earn love."

"That's not—we love her," my father stammers. "We've always loved her."

"Bullshit." The word cracks like a whip. "You loved the idea of her. The perfect daughter who'd make you look good."

"How dare you judge us," my mother snaps, clutching her bag. "You don't know what it's like raising a gifted child. The responsibility. The pressure to not waste her potential."

"Waste her potential?" Cade laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Lady, your daughter is the smartest, bravest, most incredible woman I've ever met. And she spent nineteen years thinking she wasn't enough for you."

"She had opportunities," my father says weakly. "Structure. Guidance."

"She had a cage." Cade's hands clench into fists, his jaw ticking. "You want to know what she's capable of? She faced down a mother bear to protect research that didn't even matter. She rewrote her entire thesis to tell the truth, knowing it might destroy everything. She chose authenticity over approval. That's your daughter. That's my girl."

He gestures broadly, and I notice his tie has come completely undone and is hanging around his neck like a very expensive noose.

"We wanted what was best—" my mother starts.

"You wanted control."

"Stop." I step between them, my voice shaking, hands trembling. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here."

I turn to my parents, and for the first time in my life, I'm not trying to manage their emotions or make them proud. My chest feels tight, like I can't get enough air. "Cade's right. You did give me advantages. And yes, I did well with my thesis. But you also took my childhood and turned it into a fucking résumé."

"We wanted you to have options," my mother says, voice cracking slightly. "To not be limited like we were."

"I never asked for that kind of pressure, Mom. I wanted to play with LEGOs and watch cartoons and be a normal kid. I wantto eat ice cream for breakfast and let my peas touch my carrots and not give a shit about macros."

"You were so smart," my father says quietly. "So much smarter than other kids. We couldn't just... let you waste it watching cartoons."

"Why not? Why couldn't I be smart AND have fun? Why couldn't I fail at something without it being the end of the world?"

"Because the world doesn't work that way," my mother snaps, then catches herself. "Because we knew what you were capable of."

"You knew what you wanted me to be capable of." My voice cracks. "I'm nineteen years old, and I've never had a sleepover. Never been to a school dance. Never made a decision without wondering what you'd think. Well, fuck that. I'm done."

My father's face hardens, reverting to familiar authority. "So you're choosing him over us? Throwing away your education for some... some mountain man?"

"I'm choosing myself!" The words come out as a shout. "I want to spend time in toy aisles and figure out who I am when I'm not performing for anyone. Maybe you don't understand what that means, but I don't care anymore. This is my life, and I'm going to live it."

"This is ridiculous," my mother says, but her voice wavers. "You'll come to your senses. You'll see."

"And if I don't? If I decide being happy is more important than perfect?"

"Then..." My father looks older suddenly, deflated. "Then I don't know who you are anymore."

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