"And when you became a young woman," she added softly, almost pleading now, "who was the one who sat with you? Who explained everything, who stayed by your side so you wouldn't be scared or confused? Who made sure you felt safe?"
No one spoke.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Because deep down, they all knew the answer.
I had taken care of them. I had been there for everything. Every moment that mattered.
A long moment passed before Tessa let out a scoff, flipping her hair over her right shoulder with open disdain.
"Do you think I care?" she said coldly, her voice dripping with indifference. "Whatever she did doesn't count. She's not my real mom."
Adrian let out a harsh, mocking laugh, his expression twisted with contempt. His left hand curled on the tablecloth, and his knuckles cracked one at a time, pinky to thumb, slow and deliberate.
"Exactly," he sneered. "Just look at her. You really think this broke, pathetic woman deserved to be our mother? Not in a million years. She's nothing in this Family."
His words cut through the room like a blade.
Then, without warning, he slammed a folder down onto the table in front of everyone.