(Bill)
I can see the anger flashing in her eyes, but it's quickly masked by a calm, calculated demeanor. It's unnerving, as if she's been coached to expect rejection and is determined to wear me down.
I wonder what kind of twisted narrative my mother has been feeding her, filling her head with false hopes and entitlement.
She's convinced it's reality. And my mother, it seems, has been fueling this toxic obsession.
She smiles, a cold, mirthless smile. "That doesn't mean you'd have Tiff, she'll never be with you, not after what you did to her, you're just as terrible as," she snickered, trying to unsettle me.
But my response is cool, too cool. "Let Tiffany be the judge of that. Just channel this energy into becoming a better person and stop being my mother's puppet, take that as an adv
