Lysander moved with surprising speed, catching his mother's wrist before her hand could connect with my face. For a moment, we all stood frozen in a tableau of family dysfunction—Annelise with her arm raised, Lysander restraining her, and me standing my ground, unflinching.
"That's enough, Mother," Lysander said, his voice firmer than I'd ever heard it in thirty years of marriage.
Annelise yanked her arm away, her face contorted with rage. "You dare to defend her? After everything I've done for you?"
I laughed, the sound bitter even to my own ears. "What exactly have you done for him, Annelise? Controlled his every move? Dictated his choices? Poisoned his marriage?"
"You insolent woman!" Annelise hissed. "You think you've suffered? You know nothing of suffering!"
"Don't I?" I stepped closer to her, unafraid. "I've spent decades as your prisoner, Annelise. Every decision scrutinized, every move criticized. But now..." I gestured around the room, "your reign is over."
