A little black dress. I held the tight little thing up against my body, and stood in front of the mirror. Surely this would look awful on me. The thin straps would leave my horribly scarred arms open to judgement. It just barely went past my thighs. I would be totally exposed in this.

I bit my lip nervously. I didn't want to look ungrateful and not wear the outfit I was so graciously gifted by Zoe. I had never been given the opportunity to wear something so beautiful. I would not do the dress any justice, with my rail thin body, and pale skin.

It was best to amuse myself, and pretend to be someone prettier than myself. Shimmying out of my sweatpants, being weary of the boot, my mind wandered, thinking about what his mother would look like. Would she look kinder than mine, who seemed to constantly be crying? I pulled my shirt over my head, past the cast. I glanced at the inscription on my arm and any hint of a smile disappeared.

It would be impossible to forget that I was owned by cruel people for years. I pulled the dress on carefully, it somehow looked fragile. Reaching for the zipper on my back, I became frustrated. My short arms just weren't long enough to reach my back.

A knock erupts, "you ready?" I hear Maddox call through the closed door.

"I-- um... Can't reach the zipper..." I hear him chuckle, and the door knob wiggles. The sound panics me slightly, but I don't stop him. He steps in sucking in a breath, I hoped that was a good thing, but couldn't be sure.

I feel his hand brush past my back as he zips the dress closed, I turn to face him, his jaw drops slightly, as his eyes wander down my body. "You look- stunning." I had never heard such kind words spoken to me, I grinned.

"Come on, my mom is waiting downstairs, we'll have about an hour to chat before we go out for dinner."

I could do this. We made our way down to the living room where his mom waited for us. Walking in, I saw a beautiful brunette sitting on the couch, her hair curled to perfection. She wore tight black jeans and an embellished blue blouse, both of which looked designer. Her wrist was stacked with fragile looking gold bracelets, and she had several ear piercings. I couldn't see her face yet, but I could already tell she was gorgeous.

As my confidence wavered, she turned towards us, a huge smile, and a naturally beautiful glow to her face. Surely this couldn't be his mother, she looked so young.

"Maddox, this is her?" She asked, the question stung. Was I that much of a dissapointment? She already knew about my past, and yet she was still let down merely by my appearance.

Staring down at the ground, I saw a set of heeled feet approach me, and then I felt her arms wrap around me tightly. "Thank Goddess he found you." I looked up at her, perplexed, she released her hold on me, still smiling. Her eyes shamelessly scanned my body, lingering on my forearm.

"Son, have you killed this bastard yet?" She inquired, reaching to touch my scarred arm, her soft fingers lightly traced over the inscription Taylor left on me. I blushed at how forward her question was. It made me uncomfortable, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious.

Taylor was quite evidently guilty, but had they killed him yet? If not, was there any way he could escape? Would he come for me if he did? Would anyone even care if I was gone?

"Mom, you haven't even said hi yet. I'd really prefer not to talk about that right now." He deflected the question, understandably, it's not exactly dinner conversation. His mother rolled her eyes at him and I couldn't help but giggle at it. I enjoyed watching their unfiltered mother son relationship. Would I be a good mom one day?

My mind really has a tendency to wander to odd places when left alone, thankfully his mom interjected. "It is lovely to meet you Phoenix, I am Maddox's mother, Lisa." She grabbed my limp hand from my side and shook it enthusiastically.

"The pleasure is all mine," I responded timidly. We were left in an awkward silence, so I turned to Maddox and whispered, "you never answered the question," referring to whether or not Taylor was dead.

Lisa looked on with curiosity, and I bit my lip at the impending silence. He shook his head. "Not yet, but we are not talking about this right now, please."

So he was still alive.

"What are you waiting for?" Lisa pushed on.

"Mom, stop, this isn't important right now."

"I'm sure it's important to your mate," she fired back.

They both turned to look at me, looking for an opinion. I slumped my head down, trying to become invisible to the two onlookers. His mom had a fiery attitude, she did not seem like one to back down. Squeezing my eyes tight, I prayed for the conversation to change, for any type of distraction from the minor arguing.

They stopped, I was confused as to why, so I open my eyes. I turn around to where their stares landed.

"I'm sorry to intrude, I just wanted to meet my daughter's mate's mother."

Fuck. Go back to the arguing. Somehow that would be better than having to see my mom. I had no desire to make amends with her, and she just waltz in uninvited pretending to be a part of my life.

"I just probably won't have the opportunity to see Phoenix much, so I want to make sure there are good people looking out for her," her sad voice strains, it sounds like she had just been crying.

Was I cruel for hating her? I had a right to be angry, right?

Lisa is the one to respond, "how kind of you..." She hesitated fishing for her name, which I only just realized I also didn't know.

Looking me dead in the eyes, she responded, "Phoebe."

Coincidence that I was named a similar sounding name? Probably not. Was I supposed to be touched by this, that my parents cared about me just enough to name me something similar sounding to my mother's name, before leaving me on the front porch of the Royal Pack? No. I was not touched.

"Sorry Phoebe, we're heading to dinner now, reservation for three. Have a fantastic evening with your family," I fire at her, hoping that calling her by her name instead of "mom" hurts her.

Lisa follows my lead, ignoring how poorly I've treated my mother and reaches for her purse. Maddox hesitantly says goodbye to Phoebe, still believing that I should at least try to forgive her.

How was I supposed to forget that she was the woman that left her infant behind, not giving a single shit what happened to her? I wasn't going to forgive. I wasn't going to forget.