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Amalia flew home alone on Sunday afternoon. She organised to have Delgado's in New York closed for one week so I could spend some time with Mom and Dad.

I'd asked if she wanted to stay with us as well but she needed to get back to the parlour. She was responsible for half of the bills in her house. She needed to work.

Plus she said I needed to be here for Mom and Dad without her. She promised to call as often as I wanted and told me she was going to go home and fix things with her Dad.

I'd miss falling asleep beside her.

It was Wednesday afternoon and I hadn't seen a lot of Dad. He was appearing from his room a little more each day but he wasn't in a good way.

Mom and I were out running some errands together. A meeting for mom. A hair appointment. Groceries. I decided to tag along to keep her company.

I pushed a cart down the aisle while she plucked things from the shelves. Spreads. Cereals. Crackers. Protein bars.

She was standing on her tip toes, reaching for a jar of herbs but even her heeled booties couldn't give her the height she needed. I reached above her and handed over the jar.

"Thanks, honey," she smiled, dropping it into the cart. "You want anything particular while you're here with us? You like that Italian coffee, right?"

"Yeah but I'm happy with whatever, Mom."

She absentmindedly wrapped a strand of her freshly coloured blonde hair around her finger.

It was longer again. She used to have it cut to her shoulders but it was reaching the middle of her back now.

"It's been a while since you've stayed," she laughed to herself and started pulling about seven different jars of coffee off the shelf and dropping them into the cart.

A woman and her two small children passed and Mom smiled with such a genuine radiance that you would never expect she was going through something that no parent wants to go through.

"Mom," I said as we started moving towards the cold produce. "How's Dad? Is he talking to you?"

She put her hand over mine where it clutched the cart handle bar and gave me a sad smile.

"He's talking to me but he's struggling. Your father is really shouldering the blame for this. He's always done his best to make sure you three felt beautiful and important and loved. It's hard for him to understand that things can go wrong no matter how much you love your kids."

"It's not his fault though."

"Of course not," she said. "I honestly think it has something to do with her agency. But when I suggested talking to them, she flipped."

"Since when does that stop you?"

She patted my hand. "It doesn't. But I still have to behave professionally. Even though I'd like to storm the building and beat everyone the hell up who ever told my baby girl she needed to drop weight."

"You really think that's what happened?"

"Yep. That or someone on a job. But I've met one of the agents that takes care of her profile. Avery Hale. He's a rat. Wouldn't surprise me at all."

"Does Dad know you think that's what happened?"

"I'd like to ease his conscious by telling him," she sighed and swiped a bottle of detergent off the shelf as we passed. "But your Dad doesn't have the same restraint as me. Don't tell Lucas either. If those two put their thirst for revenge together, we'll end up at the head of a court case scandal. I'm going to handle it."

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