Sophie was still holding the bank statement.
Her hands were shaking now too.
“I called you this morning,” Clara said.
“I called you because I wanted you there.
Not because I needed someone to clap.
Because I wanted my daughter to see me finish something I started before she was born.”
Sophie put the document down.
“Mom —”
“I’m not asking you to hate her.
I’m asking you to stop hating me.”
The room went quiet.
Sophie sat down across from her.
For the first time in years, there was no wall between them — just the counter, the documents, and the truth.
“Grandma called me last night,” Sophie said slowly.
“She told me not to come today.
She said if I showed up, it would encourage you.
She said you’d use it to manipulate me.”
“And you listened?”
“I was already in the car, Mom.
I was halfway there.
