Jameson’s mother immediately pulled Yvette into her arms, comforting her tenderly. “Don’t listen to that little brat’s nonsense. Her mother only sacrificed herself to extort Dad. Out of pity, he raised the girl and let her call us ‘Mom and Dad.’”
Jameson frowned at me with open displeasure. “Lauren, stop pretending now that Grandpa isn’t here. You’re just a maid’s daughter; calling them Mom and Dad is out of line.”
I couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. Furious and heartbroken, I wrenched my hand out of his grasp.
“You’re right. There’s no need to pretend anymore, so I won’t,” I said, turning to leave.
But Jameson’s father’s voice stopped me.
“Where do you think you’re going? Our family has raised you for years, and now you forget your place?”
My steps faltered as my back began to ache. Memories of being beaten with willow branches until my skin bled for disobedience came rushing back.
I shook uncontrollably, unable to move.
In the past, Jameson would have defended me against his father and taken me to Grandpa Carlos for refuge. But now, he simply returned to his seat, comforting the still-sobbing Yvette.