Elena’s Point Of View

The words slipped out before I could stop them, sharp and bitter as bile.

“Wow. What an Oscar-winning performance.”

Her eyes flicked to mine in a flash, just for a heartbeat, the perfect mask cracked, and I saw it: the simmering rage, the knife-sharp hatred, the hunger for control. Then, like the flick of a switch, she was crying again, her hands pressed to her chest as if she were the very embodiment of motherly grief.

But I wasn’t letting her dance ...