"And how do you expect me to react to that, huh?!"
Dr. Maria voice cracked through the living room like a whip that had clearly missed anger-management training. The windows didn't actually rattle—physics has standards—but they definitely considered it.
Her dark eyes (the exact pair she'd generously donated to her daughter at birth, no refunds) burned with the same fury she usually reserved for residents who couldn't tell a scalpel from a soup spoon, hospital admins who thought "budget cuts" was a personality trait, and anyone foolish enough to page her during Gilmore Girls reruns.
But never at Valentina. Not like this. Not with the full nuclear-mother glare.
"Smile?" Maria kept going, stalking the hardwood like a surgeon pacing before a malpractice deposition. "Meet up with him and we talk like I'm so grateful he took my daughter and added her to this—this polycule clearance sale? A harem?! Are you out of your goddamn mind?
