Anne's heart pounded like a war drum as the venomous words slithered from Paul's lips. Her brows arched involuntarily, a mix of disbelief and fury contorting her features. She locked eyes with Paul, her own son, his face contorted by a twisted perception.
"Paul, are you out of your mind?" Her voice trembled with a volatile mixture of hurt and anger. "What do you think of your mom? Am I that bad?" Her words carried an edge, slicing through the tense atmosphere that had suddenly engulfed the room.
Paul arched his brows and gave his mother an annoying glance while saying, "I don't believe you, mom. I know what you can do."
Anne gritted her teeth; her heart wanted to slap Paul at that point. Each syllable resonated with the years of devotion she had poured into raising him and the sacrifice
