I let out a dry, hollow laugh that echoed in the quiet kitchen. “It is quite fascinating that you are the one lecturing me on the mechanics of a decent family, Beatrice.”
“Do not be insolent with me,” she snapped back. “You better fix this immediately because when we get back to our house, you’ll be the one out on the street.”
Our house. Every time she uttered those words, a slow fire burned in my chest because forר four years, I had endured her snide remarks and her demands disguised as grandmotherly advice. Beatrice strutted through these halls like she held the deed, constantly judging my career, my wardrobe, and even the way I carried myself.
Her daughter, Chloe, was even worse, behaving like a pampered infant at twenty-eight and treating me like a temporary guest in my own life. Preston always found a way to smooth things over with a pathetic excuse about how they were just being themselves and I shouldn’t take it personally.
“It wasn’t personal,” I whispered to the empty room, remembering how he stood by and watched them slowly try to break my spirit.