The Child You Forgot

I sat on the bonnet of my Mercedes, swirling the champagne in my glass, watching as the liquid caught the dim evening light. The wide, desolate tarmac stretched behind my home, a vast emptiness matching the hollow feeling in my chest. Around me, my security detail stood alert, and behind me, Mr. Adams held a fresh bottle of champagne, ever the dutiful servant.

Then he yawned.

I nearly gagged.

Those were germs. Floating. Invading. Contaminating my air.

My champagne would never taste the same again.

I shot him a look. He coughed awkwardly, straightening like a soldier caught slacking.

Like that would change a damn thing.

"Hey," I called, my voice dripping with irritation. "Take the damn drink away."

Mr. Adams bowed slightly, handing the bottle to one of the armed guards. Then, he turned back to me with a smile. Like he expected praise.

For what? Breathing near my drink?

I clenched my jaw and looked past him. The vast, empty space ahead felt more comforting than the people around me.

Sweet Mother was coming home today.

I should have been happy.

I wasn't.

Everything had changed in the past few months.

Daddy was a wanted criminal.

Our family was drowning.

My friends—no matter how much I pretended otherwise—had been lying to me. Constantly.

My life was an absolute mess. A swirling storm of chaos, too tangled for me to make sense of.

I wanted to scream.

Instead, I took a long sip of champagne. That helped. A little.

A jet appeared on the horizon, slicing through the sky like a blade.

Hello, Mumsie. Welcome home, I guess.

The jet landed smoothly, its engines humming a final note before the staircase extended. Moments later, my mother appeared at the top of the steps.

She looked the same. Radiant. Warm. Like the world hadn't crumbled in her absence. Like she hadn't abandoned us.

Her eyes found mine, and her smile deepened.

She expected me to run to her.

Instead, I frowned.

Not because I wasn't glad she was here. But because she should have been here sooner.

Because when everything fell apart, she wasn't around.

Because she made a choice.

And it wasn't us.

But no matter how much I resented her, she was still my mother. That much was unchangeable. And for reasons I couldn't fully explain, I was willing to hear her out.

Well. Barely.

I met her at the foot of the stairs. Before she could speak, I wrapped my arms around her.

"I missed you," I murmured, eyes shut tight, head resting against her shoulder.

She hugged me back, her laughter light, her hand running fondly through my hair.

"Oh, honey, I definitely missed you more." She pulled away slightly, scanning me with amused eyes. "Is it just me, or did you lose height? Wait—no, that's not possible. But you really are short, hon. Don't worry, now that I'm back, I'll stuff you with enough protein to fix that."

She patted her chest proudly, like she'd just solved world hunger.

I twitched.

I. Am. Taller. Than. You. Woman.

I sighed, stepping back. My smile faded, replaced by something sharper. "Enough with the games. We both know things aren't the same anymore."

Her amusement lingered, but there was something else in her eyes. Something unreadable. "I'm your mother. I don't think I'm supposed to care about that."

I scoffed. "You don't understand what your absence has done. Not just to Dad. To all of us. No calls. No texts. No emails. You disallowed visits. You vanished into your lab and watched everything fall apart. And you did nothing."

She sighed, turning her head slightly. "How… how is your father?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Carefree and playful, as always. But I can't say he'll be the same with you."

She nodded, a distant smile ghosting her lips. "I see. I guess… you're the same."

I didn't reply. Something hot and searing twisted inside my chest, and I didn't know what it was. But it hurt.

The staircase folded back into the jet with a metallic clank. The world around us was silent, except for the distant shuffle of my security detail.

Then she exhaled, long and slow. Irritation tinged the breath. "Listen, honey, as much as I love all these intense emotions, I am starving. That damn jet only had desserts. Do I look like I want to be fattened up like a holiday turkey?"

A sharp laugh escaped me. A bitter, humorless thing. "Do you still love me?"

She stilled.

Her head tilted slightly, eyes scanning me. Softer. Sadder. "Why would you ask me that?"

Something inside me broke.

A barrier I hadn't even realized was there shattered, and the emotions I had tried so hard to keep locked away flooded out, overwhelming and raw.

I laughed again—ugly and twisted—stepping toward her. "Oh, I must be mistaken. Forgive me, Your Highness. You are the perfect mother."

"Ada," she warned.

"The video of Dad being a villain—shown in front of my entire class. Do you know how that felt?" My voice cracked. "I looked for you. For comfort. For warmth. But you were gone."

Pain flickered across her face. She reached for me.

I stepped back.

"People look at me differently now. Like I'm something less. And I had to face all of that alone. Pretending I was fine. Smiling through police interrogations. Living with the fear that any day now, Dad would be taken from me."

Tears burned down my cheeks. "But you weren't there. And that's why I hate you!"

"Ada—"

"I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" My screams echoed across the tarmac.

Mr. Adams and the security team rushed toward me, their faces tight with concern.

"You don't believe that," she murmured.

That calmness—like she was untouchable, unshaken—only made my rage burn hotter.

"Just go!" I yelled. "Nobody wants you here! You ruin everything! You make me miserable! Leave!"

Mr. Adams reached me just in time, his arms locking around me before I could shove her away.

"Get her home," Mum said, her voice as cold as the wind. "Maybe a little rest will remind her how much she loves me."

The words sickened me. I thrashed in Mr. Adams' grip, but it was useless.

Realizing I had lost this battle, I went limp, tears falling freely now.

"Yes, Mrs. Storm," Mr. Adams replied, his hold firm as he carried me toward the waiting cars.

The last thing I saw—through the blur of my tears—was my mother watching me.

Expression unreadable.

Emotionless.

And then, darkness took me.