Because neither of us wanted our daughter to ever feel like her love was being divided.
And now my precious girl, the one I'd held so carefully all her life, afraid she'd melt on my tongue or shatter in my hands, had fabricated those vicious lies for the whole world to see.
My eyes burned red. I lowered my head and wiped away the tears.
My husband couldn't take it. He stood up, ready to march over and demand an explanation.
I grabbed his arm and pointed at the clock on the wall.
"Look at the time. Summer's been asleep for hours."
"Maybe there's some kind of misunderstanding. One more night won't hurt. We'll ask her in the morning."
He turned his head away and let out a long breath.
"Fine. But tomorrow I'm getting a straight answer."
"What did we ever do wrong to make her drag us through the mud like that?"
I shook my head and motioned for him to turn off the light.
That night, we tossed and turned. Neither of us slept.
The next morning, the two of us sat at the dining table with dark circles under our eyes. Spread across the table was every breakfast dish Summer loved.
We waited until eight o'clock, when our granddaughter's cries finally drifted out from the master bedroom.
Only then did Summer come out, carrying the baby in her arms.
She dumped our granddaughter into my lap, grabbed her jacket, and headed straight for the door.
"Stop right there."
My husband's voice wasn't loud, but it was heavy enough to freeze the room.
Summer flinched and turned around, irritation already twisting her face.
"Dad, what are you yelling for? You scared me."
I tugged my husband's sleeve and passed the baby into his arms.
"Summer, wait a moment. Your father and I need to talk to you."
She was about to snap, but something flickered behind her eyes. They lit up instantly.
"Mom, did you and Dad finally come around? Are you transferring the company shares to Desmond Finch?"
My heart dropped. So that was what this was about.
Before I could even process the thought, Summer had already latched onto my arm, beaming.
"When are we going to handle the paperwork?"
I shook my head and quietly pushed her hand away.
"Summer, that's not what this is about."
Her face changed in an instant, her voice sharp with impatience.
"Then what is it? Spit it out."
I took out my phone and showed her the video.
"Summer, you posted this, didn't you."
I expected panic. An explanation. Something.
But Summer barely glanced at my screen before shrugging.
"Yeah. That was me."
My nails dug into my palms. My voice shook.
"Why would you post something like that?"
She picked up a shrimp dumpling from the table and bit into it, casual as anything.
"I was just messing around. Not my fault those idiots actually believed it."
"Messing around? You made up lies about your own parents and posted them online for fun?"
"Have you read those comments? Have you seen what they're saying about your mother and me? Are you trying to kill us? Delete it. Now. And post a video setting the record straight."
My husband shot to his feet and slammed his palm on the table.
The baby in his arms burst into wailing sobs. Summer flinched.
She tossed the half-eaten dumpling onto the table.
"What are you screaming about?"
"Fine, I'll delete it. But only if you transfer the company shares to Desmond."
I stared at my daughter's flushed face, searching for even a trace of guilt. There was nothing.
I shook my head, defeated, and took the baby back from my husband's arms, rocking her gently.
"Summer, your father and I have told you a hundred times. When we're gone, the company will be yours."
"And Desmond is already the general manager. Now he wants the shares too? Don't you think that's a little greedy?"
Summer crossed her arms and looked at me sideways.
