“I had my reasons for what I did back then. For a woman to survive in that kind of environment, I had to make sacrifices.”
Jackson pulled his hand away, fed up with her excuses. “So I was the sacrifice you chose to make? Cecilia, just look around and ask anyone if they think this is right. You ditched your own kid, never raised me, and now you’ve got the nerve to show up and ask for money so your other son can get married?”
“Half a million wasn’t enough for you, now you want a million? You act like I owe you something. Seriously, do you have any shame left? Stay away from me. If you don’t, tomorrow I’ll be in your neighborhood with a megaphone, telling everyone exactly what kind of person you are.”
Jackson’s words hit hard. He yanked his arm back so suddenly that Cecilia staggered, almost falling.
A warm hand landed on her waist, steadying her.
Raymond stood behind her, dressed in a sharp gray overcoat. He had that polished, European vibe, the kind you’d see in old French movies.
“You’re Jackson, right?”
Jackson straightened, a cold smirk on his lips. “And you’re Raymond.”
“That’s right. Mom told me about you. Do you have a minute? Maybe we could sit down somewhere and talk.” He was polite, almost too polite, like he was hoping they could be friends.
Jackson wasn’t having it. “No time. Just keep your mom from bothering me.”
“Jackson, whatever happened, she’s still your mother. She gave birth to you.”


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