I spotted the apple in the living room, hurried over to grab it, then turned to Isabel, saying,
"Yesterday, you saw Viola eating Arkansas black apple on Instagram story and commented that you wanted to try it too, so I bought it for you."
“Viola might be rich, but has she ever spent a single penny on you!”
“If she truly cared about you, it wouldn't be me—a warehouse clerk making four hundred twenty-five dollars a month—buying you Arkansas black apples today!”
Viola's face flushed crimson as she glared at me and argued back. "Isla! Stop stirring up trouble here!"
My words were like a thorn, piercing deep into my mother's heart.
Years of pent-up resentment had nearly overwhelmed me. I looked at her, tears streaming down my face.
“Your menus always only include dishes Viola and Ronan like. Do you even know I'm allergic to seafood?”
"You've been favoring Viola since we were child. I've watched over you and taken care of you all these years, thinking you'd at least share some affection with me, but you're still the same."
"The good things always go to Viola. Since that's the case, you can just go to her if you need anything in the future!"