Chapter 8
232 Words
Although I hated my mother, I took hold of that teaching and it had always come in handy. It had helped me so much as I hated feuds just like my mother.
“That is a poor man mentality” Tristan bluntly replied.
“What!”
I snatched my hands from him. That was out of reflex as I never imagined doing something of such nature.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I crossed my arms as I questioned angrily, trying not to get too angry so I would not do what I would regret.
“What?” He halted, shocked as I was, about my action.
Was he going to pretend like he was not aware of what he had just said or was he just trying to feign ignorance?
“What do you mean a poor man mentality? My mother is no poor man!” I was about to yell but kept my voice low. I could sense the rising heat and anger in me. I was not going to embarrass myself.
“Then I guess she is a wealthy woman?” He sneered.
“What!” My brows furrowed. I squinted my eyes as I strained my ear, he could not be talking to my mother. I hated my mother so much but I could also not deny the fact that I loved her just as much.
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