Martha emerged from the shadows of the hallway like a ghost. “The girl has finally lost her mind. She thinks a title makes her the master of this house.”
Elara looked Martha directly in the eye. “I don’t want to be the master. I want the abuse to stop, because taking every cent I earn while my daughter goes without clothes is theft.”
Martha took a threatening step forward. “Everything I spent was for the benefit of this family!”
“Really?” Elara challenged. “Was the designer luggage for the family? Were the spa days and the secret trips to Sedona for the family? I’ve been wearing the same shoes for three years while you treat my paycheck like a lottery win.”
Dante slammed his fist against the wooden dining table. “You will show some respect to my mother in this house!”
“I am the only reason this house even exists,” Elara countered. “I pay the rent, I buy the food, and I do all the chores while you sit on that couch and pretend to be a provider.”
That was the breaking point for Dante. He lunged forward and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back with such force that she cried out in pain.
“Give me the damn card!” he screamed into her ear.