When it ended, the apartment was silent.
Teresa looked smaller than she had the night before, but not remorseful.
Cornered.
That was different.
“I did what I had to do,” she said.
“For what?”
“For my daughters.”
“And what am I?”
The question left my mouth before I could stop it.
For the first time, something honest appeared in her face.
Resentment.
“You were Daniel’s favorite,” she said. “Everything was always about you. Your school. Your future. Your inheritance. My girls were treated like guests in their own home.”
“They were his stepdaughters.”
“He married me. He should have provided for them.”
“So you stole from me.”
“I balanced things.”
“You let me work overtime to pay bills you could already afford.”
“I raised you after he became sick.”
“And you believe that means you own me.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Without me, you would have had no one.”
Victor’s letter returned to my mind.
