They were calling her a bad mother, on national television, with her family right here.

She wrenched her arm away from Tully. “What are you doing?”

“You need help,” Tully said, sounding reasonable and just a little sad. “You and Marah both do. I’m scared for you. So is your husband. He begged me to help. Marah wants to confront you about it, but she’s afraid.”

Marah walked onstage, smiling brightly at the audience.

Kate felt the start of tears, and the vulnerability fueled her anger. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”

Dr. Tillman came forward. “Come on, Kathleen, Tully is being your friend here. You’re crushing your daughter’s tender spirit. Tully just wants you to address your parenting style—”

“She’s going to help me be a better mother?” She turned to Tully. “You?” Then she looked at the audience. “You’re taking advice from a woman who doesn’t know the first thing about love or family or the hard choices women have to make. The only person Tully Hart ever loved is herself.”

“Katie,” Tully said in a low, warning voice. “We’re live.”

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Your ratings. Well, I hope they keep you warm when you’re old, because you won’t have anything or anyone else. What the hell do you know about motherhood or love?” Kate stared at her, feeling sick enough that she thought she might throw up. “Your own mother didn’t love you. And you’d sell your soul for fame. Hell, you just did.” She turned back to the audience. “There’s your icon, folks. A woman so fucking warm and caring that she’s probably never told a single human being she loved them.”

Kate wrenched off her microphone and power pack and threw them on the floor. As she stormed offstage, she snagged Marah’s arm and pulled her along.

Backstage, Johnny rushed at her, took her in his arms, and held her tightly, but even his body heat couldn’t reach her. Her parents and the boys ran up behind him, creating a circle around Kate and her daughter. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said. “I didn’t know . . .”

“I can’t believe Tully would do that,” Mom said. “She must have thought—”

“Don’t,” Kate said sharply, wiping her eyes. “I don’t care what she thought or wanted or believed. Not anymore.”

Tully ran out into the hallway, but Kate was gone.