Chapter 6 Weakness

“Yeah, it’s a lunch meeting with a business associate who also happens to be a family friend. I’m sorry, I know it’s not part of the contract, but I’d like for you to be there.”

“Oh! Lunch with a business associate,” I murmured, my voice quiet but even. “That’s not a problem. Just send me the address and time. I’ll surely be there.”

“Oh no, I’ll come pick you up. We have to be there together. You are my girlfriend, remember?” There was a brief silence on the line, almost uncomfortable, before he quickly added, stumbling over his words, “I mean… hired girlfriend. Hired. I just mean, that’s how they’ll see it. Okay then, good night.”

“Good night,” I whispered back. The call ended with a soft beep.

I stared at the phone screen long after it had gone black, my lips curling into a half-smile that looked more awkward than amused.

“Here I was thinking he’s actually asking me out on a date,” I muttered under her breath.

Liam’s POV

Liam held his phone tightly after ending the call. His thumb rested on the screen, unmoving, as though if he kept holding on, he could undo the awkwardness of what he’d just said. His mind was already drifting somewhere else, when he heard a voice calling him.

“Liam!”

He froze. The familiar voice echoed in the silence of his room.

“Liam, son! Are you in? I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

By the time he looked up, his mother, Mrs. Alexander, had already walked into his room without knocking.

“Mom,” Liam muttered, quickly sitting up on the edge of his bed.

“How are you, son?” she asked, her tone calm, almost tender, though there was always something in her eyes that left him uneasy.

“I’m fine, but you didn’t tell me you’d be coming over tonight. Plus, it’s late already,” he said, his brow furrowing with a mixture of concern and irritation.

“Oh, please,” she waved off his words with a dismissive flick of her hand. “This is my son’s house. I don’t have to book an appointment before coming over.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm, as if the very thought of being unwelcome in his home was absurd.

The silence that followed was long and heavy. When she finally spoke again, her voice carried that same edge it always had whenever she was about to say something that would weigh on him for days.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about this girl you call your girlfriend…” she said, dragging out the last word with pointed disdain. “So tell me, why her?”

Liam’s body stiffened. His throat went dry, his palms damp against his knees. “What… what do you mean?” His voice came out shaky, betraying the nerves coursing through him.

“I mean why her?” she pressed, her sharp gaze never leaving him. “That girl is not fit for you. A girl who doesn’t even recognize a Gucci shirt and you claim she’s a stylist? What kind of stylist doesn’t recognize luxury brands?” Her tone carried disgust, like the thought alone was offensive.

“Mom…” Liam whispered, swallowing hard. “Did you really come here tonight just to talk about Maureen?”

“Ah, yes! Maureen. Maureen.” Mrs. Alexander said her name with a mocking lilt, her lips curling into a bitter smile. She studied him intently, her face outwardly calm, but her eyes like blades, sharp enough to slice through his composure.

“I have been patient with you, Liam,” she continued. “I’ve turned a blind eye to certain… distractions you’ve entertained in the past. But this, I will not entertain.”

Her words sank like knives into his chest. He had known this conversation would come, but knowing it and experiencing it were not the same. The sound of his mother’s voice wrapping itself around Maureen’s name made his chest ache. He lowered his gaze, tracing the pattern of the rug beneath his feet, unable to meet her piercing stare.

“She is not fit for you,” Mrs. Alexander said firmly, each word steady, deliberate, like she was dictating fate itself. “You are an Alexander. You carry this family’s legacy on your shoulders. Do you think I sacrificed everything, raised you to this point, just for you to throw it away on someone who has no place in our world?”

Her words were not new. They were echoes of all the things she had said throughout his life. The family name and the weight of legacy. The invisible leash around his neck that never loosened, not even for a moment.

“Mother…” Liam’s voice trembled, his chest tightening as if his heart was caught in a vice. “Maureen is not what you think. She… she makes me feel like I can breathe. Like I’m not just…” His words trailed off, collapsing into silence. He wanted to explain, to say she made him feel human, alive, free, even though she was nothing but a hired girlfriend to him. But under his mother’s cold scrutiny, the words felt childish and fragile.

“Listen, son.” Her voice softened, but the steel in her tone remained. “You’re going to do whatever I tell you to. You have to end whatever this is with that girl, okay?”

There was silence again. Liam sat frozen, fury boiling beneath his skin, clawing at his insides. But he couldn’t let it out in front of her. His fists clenched tightly in his lap, nails digging into his palms, as his mother’s gaze bore into him. She could see right through him, like she always did.

“Don’t worry, son,” she continued, her voice sliding into something almost soothing. “You’ll be fine. I’m sure that… thing doesn’t love you. She’s only with you because of what you have to offer. Nothing more.” She leaned forward, kissed his forehead, and stood. “Don’t be late for tomorrow’s lunch with Mr. Adams. Remember, it’s not just lunch, you’ll also be discussing some important business. Besides, he might even have a present for you.”

She began walking toward the door. At the threshold, she stopped abruptly and turned back, her voice carrying its usual finality. “Did you know Angela is back? You should call her, or perhaps invite her over for dinner.” And just like that, she left.

Liam sat still for a few moments, stunned, his heart pounding in his ears. When the silence finally became unbearable, he grabbed his pillow, pressed it over his face, and let out a muffled, anguished scream.

“Why won’t she just let me be? Why do I have to do whatever she says? Why?” he cried, his voice breaking, raw with pain and rage. He threw the pillow aside, his chest rising and falling violently as if the very air was heavy.

He staggered to his feet, moving toward the mirror that stood tall in the corner of his room. His reflection stared back at him, tired, angry, and broken.

“It’s always about her,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “Everything evolves around her. I’m a full-grown man, but I can’t even make my own decisions. She’s always controlling me. Why… why?” His voice cracked as he glared at the man in the mirror, his own eyes accusing him of weakness.