Emma’s sob was like a stab. I held her against me, my heart beating with a fury I struggled to control. I looked up at my mother, waiting for at least a word, a gesture.

But she merely said, with icy calm:

“Some children need to learn their place.”

Something broke inside me.

I stood up and said:

“Do you know why I never asked you for a single cent? Never, even when I was pregnant and alone?”

Silence fell. They had no idea what was coming…

I looked at my mother, then at Caroline. They stared at me as if I had just spoken a threat, not a truth.
I took a deep breath.

“Do you know why I never asked you for anything?” I repeated. “Because I knew that the day I came back into this house… everything would end up coming out.”

Caroline crossed her arms, annoyed. “Stop acting like the victim, seriously. Emma took from my plate, period. It’s not a big deal.”

A shiver of anger went through me.
“She is three years old. Three. And you threw a plate at her. Do you realize that?”

Caroline opened her mouth, but my mother abruptly interrupted her:

“That’s enough. Maybe Caroline reacted too quickly, but she has always been sensitive. You know that.”

I let out a joyless laugh. “Ah yes, Caroline’s famous sensitivity… The one that excuses everything, since always.”

Caroline turned scarlet. “What’s your problem? You still hate me because I was the favorite?”

She spat out those words almost mechanically, as if she knew she was protected.

And that’s when everything shifted.

“No, Caroline. I resent you because you were the only one who was protected.”

I turned toward my mother. “And I resent you because you turned her into what she is today.”

My mother flinched. “Don’t talk like that…”

“Why not?” I asked. “Do you remember when I was eleven and she pushed me down the stairs? Who did you scold? Me. Because I should have been careful. When I was fifteen and she stole my birthday money, who did you accuse? Me. Because I must have misplaced it. When she insulted me, belittled me, hurt me… you said: ‘Leave her alone, she’s fragile.’”

I bent down to pick up the pieces of plate around Emma.

“Today she doesn’t throw insults anymore. She throws objects. At a child. And you still find an excuse.”

My mother brought a hand to her mouth. Caroline remained frozen, as if the ground had opened beneath her.

“You created a monster… and you expect me to keep quiet?”

My voice trembled.

“Not this time. Not in front of my daughter.”