Mother’s chest rose sharply, her lips curling into a cold, amused smirk.
“Open threats? That’s new.”
“Then you’d better get used to it, Mother,” I shot back, my voice low and sharp.
The curve of her smile stretched wider, its chill seeping into the room.
“I didn’t expect you to defend her. I must admit it makes whatever you have with her seem more... authentic.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “Do you even care whether it’s real?”
She frowned, lifting her teacup with careful grace.
“Of course I care. I want you to have a wife, someone capable of bearing your children. If this is all for show, it’s just a waste of your time and resources.”
I huffed. “You never cease to astound me, Mother. How your stone heart manages to circulate blood is beyond me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Being pragma
