The scene was chaos, yet I could barely feel the world around me. My hands trembled, my heart heavy with years of suppressed frustration and pain. Glady Liamson, my so-called mother, was sprawled on the ground wailing like a wounded animal.
Her words, as cutting as ever, echoed in my ears, but I refused to let them control me anymore.
“Zelda, you must stand up for me! Look at how they’re treating me! Locking me up like a criminal—your own mother! You’re the mistress of this family. If you don’t take charge now, how will anyone respect you in the future?” she cried, her voice grating and relentless.
I didn’t even respond. My eyes burned with the sting of tears I refused to shed as I turned sharply and made for the door.
“Zelda!” She caught my arm, her grip surprisingly strong
