Doreen Lancaster's face froze, her expression stiffening as Cynthia continued her merciless tirade.
"When you and Grace Lancaster insulted me and my mother as children, was that treating me like a sister? When you pushed me into the artificial lake, nearly drowning me, was that sisterly love? Slapping me over and over again—was that how you treated a sister? Crying and begging William S. Lancaster to send me to an orphanage to fend for myself—was that what a sister would do?"
Her voice wasn't loud, nor was her tone particularly fiery, but it carried an icy sharpness that cut deep, like a blade slashing across Doreen's pride. Doreen was left speechless, her face betraying an awkward mix of embarrassment and frustration.
Cynthia let out a cold scoff.
"So, Doreen Lancaster, don't you think it's disgusting to bring up sisterly bonds with me now?"
Doreen trembled with rage, her lips quivering as she retorted,
