He rolled his eyes. “Just give it to me.”
“No.”
The word came out before I had time to soften it.
Brandon went still. “No?”
“Yes. No.”
His jaw tightened. “Since when do you get to tell me no?”
I laughed bitterly. “Since I’m the one paying for this house.” Home& Garden
His eyes darkened. “That’s funny.”
“No, Brandon. What’s funny is that you’re twenty-three years old and still acting like a child.”
The kitchen fell silent.
I knew at once that I had crossed a line.
But for the first time, I did not care.
“I’m done,” I said quietly. “I’m not giving you money anymore. Not for alcohol. Not for parties. Not for whatever nonsense you’re wasting it on.”
He stared at me.
Then he smiled.
Not warmly. Not kindly.
Coldly.
“Don’t talk to me like that.”
“I’m talking to you the way I should have years ago.” LanguageResources
His face hardened. “Learn your place.”
I never saw it coming.
The slap cracked across my cheek so sharply that for a second, my mind could not understand what had happened.
The pain was not even the worst part.
The worst part was the silence that followed.
I stood motionless beside the counter. The refrigerator hummed. The clock ticked. Somewhere outside, a dog barked. Every sound felt unnaturally loud.
Brandon looked at me.
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