_Zarelle’s POV_
I had a placid smile on my face, my emotions unreadable.
Celina carried on her drunken, slurred speech, completely oblivious to the dangerous ground she was treading.
“You cooked for us, washed our clothes, cleaned the house. Oh, wait, let’s see what else you did. Oh, right, you made our beds, dusted the furniture. You even cleaned my toilet! Washed Mom’s car. Mowed the lawn for Dad. Picked up after us.”
*She’s sealing her own fate,* Mirelle said coldly in my head. *Let her continue.*
She laughed like a maniac, the sound echoing through the casino and drawing more curious stares.
“You rubbed Mom’s feet once! I saw that! You were like a dog begging for any scrap of attention from the owner. I wish I’d recorded it.”
Each word was like a knife, but I fel
