Puppeteered Hearts

Bianca

She glanced at me before settling onto the sofa beside my bed. She crossed her legs and then gestured for me to lift my head.

“Sit properly,” she commanded, her tone sharp. “We need to talk.”

I obeyed, nervously pinching my fingers as her intense stare bore into me, causing sweat to bead all over my body. Why was she here, and where was father? She was supposed to be with him, not here.

“What’s on your mind?” she demanded, a sly smile playing on her lips. “My dear daughter.”

“Nothing, mother,” I replied, smiling. Everyone knew how to conceal their intentions with a smile.

She scoffed. “You don’t have to force yourself, Bianca.”

“Why are you here, mother?” I demanded. “And where is father?”

“Oh, yes,” she sneered. “What were you thinking of doing earlier? Do you seriously want to expose me in front of your father?”

I knew she would come here to talk about this. I knew she wouldn’t let it slide easily.

With a smile plastered on my face, I met her gaze. “Mother, I’m sorry