n," Mum says softly, almost pleadingly. She's always pleading with me, my mum, imploring, asking, probing, and disturbing my routine. I exhale a long breath. I sound like a d
d even holds the position of a Lady in the House of Lords. Despite her reputation, she has only signed three world-famous artists, Mum being one of them. "Why would she want to sign me?" I ask carefully. "Because you're a marvelous talent. I'm so happy you're finally getting your chance. I know how it must've felt to see your brother get all the opportunities this whole time, but you're as talented as he is, Bran." You have to say that because you're our mum and can't be caught showing favoritism. "Okay," I say simply. "I love you so, so much, Bran. My life wouldn't have been the same without you." Her words flood my mouth with nausea, but I swallow and smile. As if she can see me. "I love you, too, Mum." I hang up before she says anything else that will turn my stomach and send me rolling down the nearest cliff. My hand tightens around the phone until I think it'll break into irreparable pieces. A part of me is disappointed that it doesn't and remains intact. Like my head. My gaze sl