Roseline stepped forward sharply, her heels clicking against the marble floor, each sound slicing through the thick silence.
"Anna, enough," she said, her voice trembling with restrained fury. "Do you even hear yourself? The way you're speaking to your father—it's disrespectful. No matter what, he is still your parent. You should stand by him. That's what family does."
Anna didn't flinch.
Roseline moved closer, lowering her voice, softening it into something that sounded like concern but felt like pressure. "We raised you. We gave you everything. A roof, education, a name. You think people just get that for free? You owe us loyalty. You owe your father support in his darkest time."
Anna looked at her, eyes eerily calm, almost detached.
"Owe?" she repeated softly. "For what? Being fed? Being allowed to exist in your house? That wasn't love, Mom. That was responsibility."
Roseline stiffened, as if struck.
"How can you be so cold?" she whispered. "He is breaking in front of you."
