Party Time

~Blake's POV cont'd~

My eyes widened in shock as someone walked unannounced into the bedroom. My eyes widened even more when I saw the person's face. That person was someone I never expected to pay me a visit. That person was my mum.

"Well, look who decided to pay you a surprise visit," Drake, my inner wolf said mockingbird.

"Shut the fuck up, Drake," I replied telepathically.

"Blake? What in the world is happening here?" My mom's voice cut through the tension, her frown deepening as she glanced between me and Sandra.

Sandra quickly scrambled to cover herself with the duvet, shooting me a puzzled look. "Do you know her?" she whispered, her voice tinged with urgency.

"Yeah," I replied, hastily slipping into my underpants before addressing my mom. "Mum, could you please wait for me in the living room? I'll be there in a moment."

With a disapproving glance at Sandra, my mom exited the room, closing the door behind her.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I turned to Sandra. "Sorry about that."

"That was your mom?" Sandra's incredulous tone matched her wide-eyed expression as she wrapped the duvet around her.

"Yeah," I confirmed with a nod.

"You should have warned me she was coming," Sandra scolded, her brows furrowing as she began to dress.

"I would have if I knew," I retorted, reaching for a black top from the closet.

"Wait, you didn't know your mom was coming?" Sandra's disbelief was palpable as she slipped into her red gown.

"Clearly," I replied, pulling the top over my head. "She didn't give me a heads-up. If she had, I wouldn't have let you stay over."

"Why wouldn't you want me here if your mom had told you she was coming?" Sandra's smirk was irritatingly persistent.

"Because then she'd think you're my girlfriend, and you're not," I snapped, feeling frustrated. "Enough with the questions, Sandra. Just get dressed and go."

"Whatever," Sandra rolled her eyes, and she wore her high heels. Once she was done dressing up, we both walked out of the bedroom to the living room. Entering inside the living room, we saw my mum sitting comfortably on a couch, sipping wine while watching a movie.

Mum sensed our presence, and she gazed at us before returning her attention back to the movie she was watching. Sandra and I walked closer to her with a sense of apprehension hanging in the air. My mom's gaze flicked back to us as we approached, her expression unreadable.

"Hi, Mom," I said tentatively, trying to gauge her mood.

"Hello, Blake," she replied coolly, taking another sip of her wine.

Sandra shifted uncomfortably beside me, clearly feeling the tension in the room. I shot her a reassuring glance before turning back to my mom.

"Um, Mom, this is Sandra," I gestured towards her awkwardly. "Sandra, this is my mom."

Sandra offered a polite smile, trying to appear composed despite the awkwardness of the situation. "Nice to meet you, Mrs...?"

"Call me Linda," my mom interjected, finally tearing her eyes away from the TV screen to acknowledge Sandra with a brief nod.

"Nice to meet you, Linda," Sandra replied, her voice tinged with nervousness.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before my mom spoke again. "So, Blake, care to explain what's going on here?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my mom's disapproval bearing down on me. "Um, well, Sandra and I... we were just... hanging out," I stammered, struggling to find the right words.

"Hanging out?" my mom raised an eyebrow skeptically. "In your bedroom?"

I felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck as I searched for a plausible explanation. "Yeah, we were just... talking," I improvised weakly.

My mom's expression softened slightly, though the disapproval still lingered in her eyes. "Well, next time, maybe consider doing your 'talking' in a more appropriate setting," she said firmly.

I nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over me that she wasn't pressing the issue further. "Yeah, sure, Mom. Sorry about that."

"Have a seat, Sandra," my mom said with a gesture. "I'd love to know more about you."

"I'd love to have a chat with you, Mom, but I have important matters that require my presence. So I'm sorry. Maybe some other time," Sandra explained politely.

"No problem," Mom replied with a smile, understanding Sandra's need to attend to her responsibilities.

"Alright. Have a nice day," Sandra said, offering a final nod before heading out the door.

"And you too," my mom replied, returning the gesture.

I watched as Sandra walked out of the house, shutting the door behind her. A sense of relief washed over me as the tension from earlier began to dissipate. With a soft sigh, I finally allowed myself to relax, sinking into the couch beside my mom.

"So, what brings you here, Mom? And how did you even know this place?" I asked, curiosity piqued. "I mean, I didn't tell you or Dad where I was living, so how did you get my address?"

"Before I answer your questions, I'd love to ask you one question," Mom interjected.

"Go on," I nodded, intrigued by her sudden shift in the conversation.

Mom cleared her throat before speaking. "I understand that you've been independent since eighteen, and you left your dad and me seven years ago to chase your dream of becoming a lecturer. And I'm sure you've achieved that dream, right?"

"Yeah, I have," I replied, pride swelling in my chest at the reminder of my accomplishments.

"Then why didn't you return home after all these years?" Mom's voice softened, her gaze searching mine. "Why did you block me and your father from contacting or reaching out to you?"

I bristled at her questions, the memories of past grievances bubbling to the surface. "The reason is because I don't want to return to that family," I stated coldly. "I don't want to see the face of that greedy man, who unfortunately happens to be my father."

"Don't talk about your father like that, Blake!" Mom corrected sharply, her tone tinged with reproach.

"Why shouldn't I?" I shot back, frustration seeping into my voice. "After all, he's just a selfish and self-centered man who cares about nothing but his companies, his business, and his wealth."

Mom's expression softened, a mixture of sadness and understanding in her eyes. "Blake, I know things haven't been easy between you and your father, but he's still your father. And despite his flaws, he loves you in his own way."

I scoffed at her words, feeling a surge of bitterness rise within me. "Love? He doesn't know the meaning of the word. All he cares about is maintaining his image and his fortune."

Mom reached out and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I know it's hard for you to see past his faults, but please try to understand. He's not perfect, none of us are, but he's still your family."

I shrugged off her touch, feeling a mixture of resentment and resignation swirling within me. "I'll never forgive him for what he's done, Mom. And I'll never go back to that house, not as long as he's there."

Mom sighed, her shoulders sagging with defeat. "I just wish you could find it in your heart to forgive him one day, Blake. Holding onto anger and resentment will only hurt you in the end."

But I wasn't ready to heed her advice, not yet. The wounds were still too fresh, the pain too raw.

"You haven't answered my question yet, Mom," I interjected, changing the topic. "How did you get my address?"

"I coincidentally met your three friends, Derrick, Merrick, and Herrick yesterday at a party," Mom explained. "The event was organized for influential companies and figures, and your friends happened to attend. That's where I got your address from."

"So, the party was a professional gathering?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Yeah, you could call it that," Mom confirmed with a nod.

"But why would Merrick, Derrick, and Hendrick attend such a boring party?" I muttered under my breath, but it seemed Mom caught wind of my comment.

"I was also surprised to see them there, but they mentioned that they recently took over their family's business, so they felt obligated to attend," Mom elaborated.

"Whatever," I scoffed dismissively. "So, you came all the way here just to remind me of how much I hate Dad?"

"No," Mom shook her head firmly. "I came to tell you that he's sick."

"He's sick, so what?" I responded coldly, my indifference evident.

"He recently developed a heart problem, so you need to come home," Mom insisted, her tone serious.

"Come back home to do what?" I asked with a furrowed brow, a sense of defiance creeping into my voice.

"You need to come back home and take over the family's business," Mom replied matter-of-factly, her gaze unwavering.

I felt a surge of anger rising within me at her suggestion. "Take over Dad's business? After everything he's done? No way."

Mom reached out and grasped my hand, her touch gentle yet firm. "Blake, I know you're angry, and I understand why. But your father needs you now more than ever. And despite your differences, he's still your father. Please, consider coming back home. For his sake."

"You expect me to just drop everything and come running back to the family business?" I exclaimed, my frustration boiling over. "After everything he's put me through?"

"Yes, Blake, I do," Mom responded firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Your father needs you, and it's time for you to step up and fulfill your responsibilities."

"I have responsibilities, Mom," I shot back, my voice rising with each word. "Ones that I've worked hard for, ones that have nothing to do with Dad or his precious business."

Mom's eyes flashed with a mixture of disappointment and determination. "Your father may not have always been there for you, but that doesn't change the fact that he's your father. And family comes first, whether you like it or not."

"Well, maybe it's time to redefine what family means," I retorted bitterly, feeling the weight of years of resentment bearing down on me. "Because from where I'm standing, family means betrayal, manipulation, and greed."

Mom's expression softened, a pang of sadness flickering across her features. "Blake, I know you're hurting, but pushing away the people who care about you won't make the pain go away. It'll only leave you feeling more isolated and alone."

"I'd rather be alone than be a puppet in Dad's twisted game," I snapped, my fists clenched in frustration. "I won't let him control me anymore."

Mom reached out and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the tension between us. "You don't have to let him control you, Blake. But you also don't have to let your anger consume you. There's a middle ground, if you're willing to find it."

I shook my head stubbornly, refusing to back down. "I'm not ready to forgive him, Mom. Not yet."

Mom sighed, her disappointment palpable. "I understand, Blake. But please, think about what's best for your father. He may not deserve your forgiveness, but he does deserve your compassion."

With that, she rose from her seat, her gaze lingering on me for a moment before she turned and headed for the door. As I watched her leave, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions churned within me, leaving me feeling more lost and uncertain than ever before.

I shook every thought off my head and decided to focus on something more immediate: preparing for the party I had planned to host. With determined steps, I made my way to the kitchen, my mind already racing with ideas for the menu and decorations.

As I rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out ingredients and supplies, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within me. Hosting parties had always been a passion of mine, and the fact that Bella would be attending the party made me feel more excited.

I had always planned and hosted parties, and was also very good at cooking. The chopping of vegetables, the sizzle of food cooking on the stove, the burst of color as I arranged flowers in vases and decorated the house—all served as a welcome distraction from the turmoil brewing within me.

As the hours passed and the sun began to dip below the horizon, the preparations for the party were finally complete. The house was filled with the tantalizing aroma of freshly cooked food, the soft glow of fairy lights casting a warm atmosphere over the large room.

With a satisfied smile, I surveyed my handiwork, feeling a sense of pride swell within me. Despite the challenges I faced, I had managed to create something beautiful.

"Good job, Blake," I said to myself. "Now, let's hope Bella fulfils her promise by coming."