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And it's my fault, of course

Nancy

I had already gotten used to Bruce's accusations. To him, everything that was wrong in our lives—everything that didn't follow the Mortons' perfect plan—was my fault. And at that moment, as he launched into the issue once again, blaming me for what Amber had become, I felt the weariness and anger building up inside me like poison.

"You raised Amber badly, Nancy. She turned into this angry girl because you never disciplined her properly!" Bruce's voice echoed through the room angrily, and his eyes fixed on me as if I were to blame for everything bad in his life.

I looked down at the coffee he was pouring, my hands shaking slightly as I poured the hot liquid into the cups placed in front of him and Charles. We were in the living room, both of us sitting in leather armchairs in front of the fireplace, while I moved like a servant, obedient and silent.

"Amber has no respect for men. She doesn't have an ounce of submissiveness or modesty. Of course that's coming from you," Bruce cont
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