Page 290 of Invisible Bars

The only reason I was able to secure the modest room was the eight hundred and ninety-seven dollars nestled in my purse that fateful day. That paltry sum represented everything I had left to my name when the officers pulled me from my own home, treating me like a common criminal with no regard for my dignity or the life I had built.

In my frantic search for support, I reached out to everyone I could think of: friends who once laughed with me, distant family members who I believed would extend a hand in my time of need, and people who owed me favors, who used to greet me like royalty. Yet, each call went unanswered and messages fell flat, seen but disregarded; some even blocked me.

I soon realized it wasn’t a mere coincidence that led to this betrayal; it was Robert. He had poisoned the well before I evergot a sip by turning everyone against me with quiet whispers and fake charm and burned every bridge while I was still walking on it.

What cut deeper than any betrayal was the painful silence from my children. Not one of them had thought to call, check on me, or reach out in any way. The thought that Robert had turned them against me, too, gnawed at my heart, leaving me to wonder if I was truly alone in the world now. The realization of being a woman who once commanded attention and respect, now struggling to scrape together enough money for a week in a mid-level hotel, twisted my stomach in knots.

With a deep breath, I lifted my chin and adjusted my robe like a tailored suit meant for a warrior.

Because no matter how far I had fallen, Giselle Kors would never allow the world to witness my breaking… even if I already had.

When the knock came, I straightened my robe and opened the door, expecting a concierge with fresh towels or an apology for a noise complaint I hadn’t filed.

Instead, “Hello,Mother,” Imanio said, cool and collected, stepping past me.

I closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet room.

“It’s been four days,” I commented, my voice tight with frustration. “I was beginning to wonder when you would finally show up.” I folded my arms. “Where’s your sister? I half-expected her to come along.”

“She’ll come on her own,” he replied, his gaze scanning the room as if searching for something hidden. “But right now, I need to talk to you… alone.”

With a heavy sigh, I walked over to the edge of the bed and sank onto the mattress, allowing the weight of the conversation to envelop me.

“Come to gloat?” I asked, trying to inject a hint of sarcasm into my words, masking my unease.

“No,” he responded, his voice firm and unwavering.

There was a calmness in his demeanor that surprised me—no trace of the smugness I had anticipated. Imanio stood there for a moment in contemplative silence, the air thickening between us. Finally, he turned to face me, his voice low and charged with emotion.

“I came to say what I’ve been holding in foryears,and I need you to truly understand this: whatever version of me you think you raised… that boy is gone. You don’t get to manipulate, control, or make me feel guilty anymore.”

His words hung in the air like a weighty declaration, signaling a shift that I wasn't sure I was ready to accept.

“Everything soft in me, you tried toweaponizeit. You didn’t want me cold, Giselle; you wanted mepliable,moldable, and easy to manage.You wanted a grown-ass man who still acted like a mama’s boy… someone who still asked for permission before living and let you pull the strings and smiled while doing it. Any time I showed a backbone that didn’t curve in your direction, you tried to break it. Every bit of heart I had? You bent it until it stopped beating for anyone but you. Loyalty? Too much. Emotion? Weak. Independence?”

He let out a humorless laugh.

“Ungrateful.”

I opened my mouth—to spin it, to cry, to guilt—but he kept going.

“You didn’t raise a son; you tried to raise a reflection… someone quiet, polished, and predictable that made you look good.”

My expression flickered—wounded, furious, powerless.

Imanio stared me down, his voice sharp as glass.

“But guess what?” he said, stepping fully into my space. “I grew the hell up! And I’m not your mirror anymore, Giselle. I’m a man who sees exactly who you are now, and I damn sure don’t need a mother who only shows up to control what she couldn’t kill.”

My face cracked. “I was trying to maintain order!”

“Order?” he retorted. “You meancontrol. Giselle, you judged everyone who didn’t live up to your picture-perfect idea of what family should be! You talked down to Pops, you ignored Dess’s feelings, and you tried to make me your trophy until I started making my own decisions!”

“I was building a legacy!” I deflected, voice shaking.

“No, you were building a prison; one where love only counted if it matchedyouraesthetic and pain didn’t exist if it threatened your image.”

I clenched my fists in my lap. “You make it sound like I’m a monster!”