Page 163 of His Forced Bride
"I said I wanted to save you from the terrible mistake you've made."
She moves toward an antique bar, selecting a bottle of vodka from a shelf and nodding at me.
"Marrying that animal, living in his fortress, becoming part of his criminal empire. None of that represents who you truly are."
She pours two glasses and waves one in the air.
"I'm not going to bite, dear," she chides and lifts one eyebrow as she waits for me to come get it.
I accept the glass she offers but don't drink.
Trust died along with my father.
I watched her pour this, but I have no clue what was in the glass before she did.
"You killed Batya," I say, watching her face for any flicker of reaction.
"I freed you from a man who spent years filling your mind with poison about me."
She sips her drink with perfect composure, like we're not talking about murder.
"He turned my own daughter against me, convinced you that I was some kind of monster who deserved to be cast out and forgotten."
"You stole from our family business…"
I set the glass down, and she watches me carefully.
The pretense is slowly lifting as her expression shifts from saccharine-sweet affection to the ruthless bitterness beneath it.
"I took what belonged to me by right of marriage and partnership. What your father promised me when we wed, then tried to deny when he decided I had become inconvenient to his plans."
Anger flickers in her voice before she controls it.
"He threw me out of my own home, denied me access to my own child, expected me to disappear into poverty and obscurity."
The justifications flow from her mouth like she's been memorizing them for a play every day since she walked out that door.
She's rehearsed this speech countless times, polished each rationalization until she believes them completely.
In her twisted version of history, every crime becomes justified self-defense.
"So you waited this long for your revenge?"
My accusations aren't subtle at all.
She has to know I'm not here to beg for her mercy and help.
I'm not a good playactor like she is, which makes me honored to have a real heart yet untouched by the darker things in this world.
"I waited eleven years to reclaim what was stolen from me."
She approaches me slowly, rounding the end of the bar.
"But even when I gave you every opportunity to make the correct choice, you chose him over me."
This is a depth of delusion I had no idea she lived in.
She genuinely believed that orchestrating my father's assassination would drive me into her arms, make me grateful for her intervention.
