"Honey, Blanche is still a kid. Teenage rebellion, you know? Don't stoop to her level."
The moment Blanche saw her dad walk in, her whole demeanor shifted.
The tears came on command. Blanche threw herself into Vincent's arms, wailing.
"Dad! She canceled my card and wants to kick me out! She said this house is hers and told me to go back to the family home!"
"I don't want to live anymore!" She sobbed dramatically.
Vincent patted her back, his face full of concern. He turned to look at me, a hint of reproach in his eyes.
"Honey, you're in the wrong here."
"Blanche is so sensitive—how could you say something like that to hurt her?"
"Hurry up and restore her card. It's embarrassing for a kid to be out there with no money."
I stared coldly at the father-daughter pair, feeling nothing but disgust.
"Vincent, let me make something clear."
"I bought this house. I started the company. I earn the money."
"I decide who gets to spend it."
"Since you two are so devoted to each other, here's what we'll do."
"Starting today, you—her biological father—are responsible for all of Blanche's expenses."
Vincent froze.
He hadn't expected me—always agreeable, always generous—to suddenly push back this hard.
His salary?