Mom, Don't Cry! Here comes a new Daddy! novel Chapter 134

< Chapter 119

Claim

Chapter 119

(Sabrina’s POV)

“Sabrina,” Kate continues. “Ethan tells me you’re quite knowledgeable about art.”

“I studied it in college.”

“How lovely. And where did you study?”

“State university. I had a scholarship.”

“State university.” She repeats it the way someone might say “community college” or “online courses.” “Not one of the traditional art schools, then.”

“I couldn’t afford the traditional schools.”

“Of course not. Well. State education can be quite good. Practical.” She takes a sip of her wine. “Tell me, what do you think of the Rothko exhibit at the modern art museum? I assume you’ve been?”

I have been. Took Jake last month. Spent two hours looking at the color fields while he asked why someone would paint big rectangles.

“I think his work is about emotion over form,” I say carefully. “The experience of standing in front of the canvas. The way color can affect mood without representing anything concrete.”

Kate nods. “Adequate analysis. And the current theory on his later works? The dark palette

shift?”

This is a test. I can feel it.

“Some scholars think it reflected his depression. His eventual suicide. Others argue he was exploring the limits of color. Seeing how much he could strip away and still create impact.”

“Which interpretation do you subscribe to?”

“Both. I don’t think they’re mutually exclusive.”

Something flickers in Kate’s eyes. Not approval. But acknowledgment.

Then she shifts. “And what about the Harrison merger? Have you been following the news?”

Business. Something I know less about.

“I’ve seen the headlines,” I admit.

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“Just the headlines? It’s one of the biggest deals of the year. Surely as Creative Director at Hale Global, you’d have more than a passing interest.”

“My focus is on the creative side. The campaigns. Not the financial strategy.”

“How compartmentalized.” Kate dabs her mouth with her napkin. “In my day, we understood that business is holistic. One can’t truly excel in any area without understanding how all the pieces fit together.”

Ethan’s hand finds mine under the table. Squeezes once.

I squeeze back but don’t look at him.

Down the table, one of the cousins-a man in his forties with Kate’s sharp eyes-says, “I think specialization is the modern approach, Grandmother. Can’t expect everyone to be a generalist.”

“Can’t we?” Kate’s gaze doesn’t leave my face. “When one is representing the Hale name, one should be prepared to discuss any topic that might arise. Art. Business. Politics. Culture. A Hale spouse is more than a specialist. She’s an ambassador.”

She. Not they. Not a spouse.

She.

Like Ethan’s role is already decided and mine is to fit into it.

Jake has been quiet this whole time, cutting his food carefully, trying to be on his best

behavior. But now he looks up.

“Mom knows everything about paintings,” he says. “She’s really smart. She can look at a picture and tell you who made it and when and what it means. She’s the smartest person I

know.”

My heart clenches.

Kate turns her attention to him. “That’s very loyal of you, dear. I’m sure your mother is quite

competent at her job.”

“Mom’s not competent. Mom’s the best.”

“Jake,” I say softly. “It’s okay.”

“But it’s true!” He looks around the table like he’s trying to convince a jury. “She makes all these ads that everyone loves. And she teaches me about art. And she’s really, really good at what she does.”

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Kate’s expression doesn’t change. I’m certain she is. But you see, Jake, competence in one area doesn’t necessarily translate to the kind of… broader sophistication the Hale family requires.”

The words land like stones.

Jake doesn’t understand them. I can see the confusion on his face.

But I understand them perfectly.

I’m good at what I do. But that’s all I’m good at.

I’m not good enough for their world.

Not sophisticated enough for their table.

Not worthy enough for their name.

Rosalie, sitting a few seats down, leans forward with a sympathetic smile.

“You know, Jake has been sitting so still for so long. That’s impressive for a six-year-old. Maybe I should take him to see the kitchen? The chef here is amazing. He might enjoy seeing how they prepare the food.”

Kate’s eyes snap to her. “The child can sit through a few hours of dinner. This is a formal

occasion.”

“I just thought-” Rosalie starts.

“Children are active by nature. Full of energy. I understand that.” Kate’s tone is patient. Condescending. “Few have the patience to sit still for so long. But discipline is learned. And Jake needs to learn it if he’s to bear the Hale name.”

“Actually,” I say, keeping my voice level, “Jake has excellent manners for his age. He’s been very patient tonight.”

“Has he? I suppose standards vary depending on upbringing.”

The implication is clear.

Your standards aren’t our standards.

Ethan sets down his wine glass. The sound is sharper than it should be.

“My son,” he finally says, his voice cutting through the ambient conversation, “has been sitting through this dinner with more grace and patience than most adults I know. Including

some at this table.”

Chapter 119

The table goes quiet.

“He’s six years old,” Ethan continues. “He’s using the correct silverware. He’s keeping his napkin in his lap. He’s speaking when spoken to and staying quiet otherwise. That shows more discipline than your generation had at his age, Grandmother.”

Kate’s eyes narrow. “Ethan-”

“So yes, my Jake’s upbringing is unmatchable.” He looks directly at me when he says it. “Right, Jake?”

Clain

Jake sits up straighter. “Right.” Nodding very seriously, he continues, “my mom says it’s very important for kids to know manners. That also means…” He looks around, his gaze pausing on Kate. “No talking when eating, Granny Kate. That’s bad table manners.”

Ethan grins and turns back to Kate. “And as for Sabrina’s sophistication-she’s becoming my wife. Not a showpiece for the family to admire. She doesn’t need to know every detail of every merger or be fluent in every aspect of high society protocol.”

“She needs to be able to represent-”

“She represents herself. And she represents herself brilliantly. She built a career on her own merit. She raised an incredible child despite her husband’s negligence. She creates campaigns that have increased Hale Global’s market share by seventeen percent in three months.” His voice gets harder. “Those are facts. Not opinions.”

The table is silent.

Kate studies her grandson. I can’t read her expression.

Then she says, quietly, “You’re very defensive of her.”

“I’m very aware of her value. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

Dight there. In front of everyone. “Art is merely a