“You also chose the wrong picture,” she said. “It makes you look too important.”
She pulled the photograph out of the frame.
Adrian finally moved. “Mom—”
It was already too late.
Veronica tore the photograph straight through my face.
The entire room went silent.
Something inside me became colder than anger.
I slowly rose.
“Put that down.”
She tore it again.
“You need humility.”
I stared at the shredded photograph scattered across the floor. Then I looked at the long mahogany table covered with folders, coffee cups, and handwritten rules.
For three days, I had tolerated their arrogance because Adrian had begged me to give his family time.
That patience ended there.
I placed both hands beneath the edge of the table.
Veronica laughed. “What are you doing?”
I flipped it.
Cups shattered. Papers flew everywhere. Chairs scraped violently across the floor.
Someone screamed.
Adrian turned completely white.
His mother pointed at me, trembling. “You insane little gold digger!”
