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What. The actual. Fuck.
And then she hadtheaudacity—the gall—to run a hand over Tillie’s bright red face. “My, how I’ve missed those sweet chubby cheeks. What role did you land this year? Another little mouse?”
Tillie looked down at her silver leotard and ornate tutu, smoothing the fabric with trembling fingers, chewing her bottom lip like it was the only thing holding her together.
“Oh, she’s always struggled to articulate herself,” Carly tossed over her shoulder to Alice like they were girlfriends at lunch. Alice straightened so fast it was a miracle her spine didn’t crack. She glared at Ollie like he could magic this viper out of the building.
I slid my hand into Tillie’s and pulled her gently a step behind me.
“Carly,enough,” Ollie snapped. His voice was tight, controlled—but barely.
“She’s perfectly articulate when she’s comfortable with someone,” I bit out.
“Mattie was selected for two performances this year,” Ollie continued proudly, nudging her shoulder with his elbow. “She’s dancing as a snowflake and as an angel in ‘Sugarplum.’”
The little one smiled up at him like he’d hung the moon.
“My, an angelanda snowflake!” Carly announced, loud enough to draw eyes. “Are they just handing out participation trophies this year?”
Ollie tensed. I could see him fighting to stay grounded. Meanwhile, I was praying for one last straggler to clear the lobby so I could unleash myself like the avenging angel this kid deserved.
What in the fuck had Ollie ever seen in this woman?
“She’s worked her ass off this year,” I snapped before he could speak.
“Sure.” Carly waved me off like I was an annoying puff of air. “But let’s be honest—she’s never been a natural. Everyone has their strengths. Grace just isn’t hers. Must get that from her father.”
Tillie’s hand tightened around mine, and Ollie and I both stepped forward at the same time.
“Carly,” he growled, voice like smoke and ruin, “enough.”
But I wasn’t finished. “Please tell me I’m beingPunk’dand you’re not actually standing here in your disco-ball fabric with the audacity to belittle your own daughter minutes before she steps on stage.”
Carly blinked at me, scandalized. Her hand fluttered to her chest like I’d just accused her of murder. “Oh, sweetie, I’m just being honest. Critique is part of being a performer. Matilda understands that.” Then, lower—like she thought whispering made it less venomous—she added, “Not all of us are meant to be soloists. But if we get her into a more prestigious school, I’m sure she’ll make a lovely ensamble dancer.”
I dropped Tillie’s clammy hand, ready to knock her veneers into the next tax bracket—except Ollie caught my wrist.
I turned, seething, but one look at his pleading eyes—and then at Tillie’s glassy ones—and I knew I couldn’t swing.
Not yet.
Instead, I slapped on a smile so bright it hurt. “Let’s get you backstage,” I said softly, already moving. She nodded without speaking, hand sliding into mine as I led her away.
Alice appeared beside me like a vengeful storm cloud with Beau on her hip, red creeping up her neck.
Behind us, Ollie’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “What the hell is wrong with you? That little girl has poured everything into this. Embarrassing yourself I can tolerate. But who says that shit to a ten-year-old?”
Oh. So he’d reached his limit.Finally.
“Keep your voice down,” Carly snapped, like he was the one who’d lost the plot.
But I wasn’t listening anymore. My mind was spinning. How could anyone be so fucking cruel to their own kid?
How had nobody put that bitch in concrete yet?
Honestly, this was why duels should still be legal. Fastest draw wins, justice served.
But I didn’t need revenge. Not now. I needed to help this little girl feel strong, loved, andseen—before she stepped into that spotlight.