The Chosen Bride
"If anything, take out your anger on our father, who is guilty of everything."
"This is too much for me," I mentioned, intending to leave.
"You're not leaving here until you admit that you tore up those books," Ima said, grabbing my arm.
I glared at her.
"Remove your hand if you don't want me to break it," I warned her.
She dug her nails into me as if that had provoked her more.
"It's your bastard sister causing problems, problems that have turned my son against us," the wife accused.
"She would never tear up those books, never. Let go of your sister, Ima."