Bruno covered it with his other hand.
“My mom gave it to me.”
Your mother looked away.
That was confession enough.
You walked toward Bruno.
His wife shifted in her chair, suddenly uncomfortable.
“Take it off.”
Bruno scoffed. “Are you serious?”
“Take off my grandfather’s watch.”
Arturo stepped toward you.
Davis, your driver and security, moved from the wall for the first time.
He did not say a word.
He did not need to.
Arturo stopped.
Bruno’s face flushed as he unclasped the watch and tossed it onto the table.
It landed harder than it should have.
You picked it up gently, wrapping your fingers around it like you were touching your father’s hand.
For the first time that night, your eyes burned.
But you swallowed it down.
Not here.
Not in front of them.
Your mother’s voice changed again, softening into the tone she used when she wanted to rewrite history.
“Camila, sweetheart, you don’t understand what those years were like for me.”
You laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“I understand perfectly. You lost a husband and cashed a check. I lost my father and got evicted from my childhood.”
Her eyes filled.
The room saw the tears.
Once, those tears would have made you feel guilty.
Tonight, they only looked late.
“I was alone,” she whispered.
