I stared at her.
“Did you also just lose your temper every single day for an entire year while torturing my wife?” I asked coldly.
She shook her head.
“I was only trying to teach her how to be a proper, dutiful wife,” she argued stubbornly.
I stopped moving.
“A good wife is not a house servant, a five-year-old granddaughter is not an employee, and being my mother gives you zero right to destroy my family,” I told her directly.
Her tears disappeared almost instantly.
“And where exactly am I supposed to live now if you throw me out?” she demanded angrily.
“You will live in your own house back in Baltimore, which is still fully yours,” I replied calmly.
Her expression hardened.
“Are you seriously sending your poor mother back there all by herself?” she shouted.
“You have two other adult children you can go live with,” I said plainly.
