"YOU'VE BEEN A HORRIBLE DAUGHTER, NATASHA," she started, choosing one whip from her collection and turning to me. "Get off your clothes. Don't forget to put them away from you, we don't want anyone seeing blood on them, do we?"
"No, mother," she slapped my face with her hand covered in her fire magic, and I gulped.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to burn your face. This little fire won't do any harm. It's way too hard to hide a bruise on your face from others," at least she knows that. "And I did not give you permission to talk, did I? You can only open this trash you call mouth when I allow you to. Furthermore, hadn't I ordered you not to call me mother when your father isn't around? Don't you know how you disgust me?"
The only person who doesn't know that is my father. She doesn't try to hide from anyone but him. So yeah, pretty obvious.
