“How dare you embarrass me,” she hissed. “Arriving on the arm of Zahariev Zareth and in that dress!” “And to think I praised you for being such a supportive mother,” I said. “You are not the child I raised.” I flinched and looked at her, the corner of my mouth lifting in a snide smile. “Do you know what’s funny?” I said, jerking my arm from her hold. “I am the child you raised.” “Lower your voice!” she hissed. I ignored her command. “But you can’t accept that,” I said. “Because it would mean that you are to blame for the person I’ve become. What would people think if they really knew the pious
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