space between us.
The slap echoed across the ballroom.
My head snapped sideways.
One of my earrings flew across the floor.
Gasps filled the room.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
I slowly bent down.
Picked up the earring.
Straightened.
And looked directly into my mother’s eyes.
I expected regret.
I expected embarrassment.
Instead, I saw rage.
Because she still believed she could control me.
Without saying another word, I walked toward the exit.
Behind me, voices erupted.
Jessica yelling.
My father shouting.
Guests whispering.
But I kept walking.
Outside the
