Chapter 8: You certainly made an impression

The tension in the room was palpable as Clara continued to fuss over Daniel, while I sat back, reveling in the chaos I had caused. My mother glared at me, but I maintained my defiant stance, refusing to let her intimidate me into compliance. If they wanted me to act like a proper daughter, they were going to be sorely disappointed.

"Daniel," I said, my voice cutting through the awkward silence, "I've always wondered, how do you handle making decisions in your business when you're constantly surrounded by people who are so much older and, well, out of touch?"

Daniel's eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his composure. "I rely on a team of experienced advisors, Elena. Age brings wisdom, after all."

I turned my attention to his mother, who was still eyeing me with disapproval. "Is that true, Mrs. Thompson? You must have a wealth of wisdom given your, um, experience. Do you find it difficult to make decisions these days?"

Mrs. Thompson's expression hardened. "I assure you, Elena, I am perfectly capable of making decisions, regardless of my age."

I smiled sweetly. "That's good to hear. Sometimes it's hard to tell with older people. They get set in their ways, you know?"

My mother's face turned red with anger. "Elena, that's enough. Apologize right now."

Ignoring her, I continued. "I mean, it must be hard to keep up with all the changes in the world. I can't imagine trying to run a business or even manage a household without being constantly confused."

Mr. Thompson cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "My wife and I have managed just fine, thank you."

I feigned innocence. "Of course, I didn't mean to imply otherwise. I just think it's impressive when older folks can keep up. It's rare, don't you think?"

Clara shot me a warning look, but I was past caring. This was my chance to ensure that they saw me as unfit for their perfect son.

"And speaking of managing households," I said, turning back to my mother, "what's for dinner, Mom? It smells… interesting."

My mother's face was a mask of controlled fury. "It's roast chicken with vegetables. A classic."

I picked up my fork and prodded at the food on my plate. "Classic, huh? More like outdated and bland." I took a bite and made a face. "Yep, just as I thought. Tasteless."

"Elena, enough!" my mother snapped. "Stop this behavior immediately."

I smirked. "Why? I'm just being honest. Isn't that what you always taught us, Mom? Honesty is the best policy?"

Daniel's father tried to diffuse the situation. "Elena, I'm sure your mother worked hard on this meal. Let's show some appreciation."

I laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. "Appreciation? For this?" I picked up my plate and, with a dramatic flourish, let it fall to the floor, where it shattered, sending food everywhere. "Oops. Looks like I've lost my appetite."

The room went dead silent. Clara looked horrified, and Daniel's parents were staring at me in disbelief. My mother was seething, her fists clenched at her sides.

"Get out of this room, right now," she hissed through gritted teeth.

I stood up, brushing imaginary crumbs off my dress. "Gladly. This place is stifling. It's like you're all sucking the air out of the room."

As I walked to the front door, I threw a parting shot over my shoulder. "I'm going outside. You're taking up too much of my air."

I heard my mother's gasp of shock and Clara's whispered protests, but I didn't stop. The night air was cool and refreshing compared to the oppressive atmosphere inside. I stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind me with a satisfying click.

Leaning against the railing, I took a deep breath, feeling the tension slowly ebb away. The moonlight cast a serene glow over the yard, a stark contrast to the chaos I had left behind.

I knew I had gone too far, but a part of me felt a grim satisfaction. I wasn't going to be controlled or pushed into a marriage I didn't want. If this was what it took to make that clear, so be it.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and Tyron stepped out. He must have been waiting nearby, ready to offer support if needed. He walked over to me, a mixture of amusement and concern on his face.

"Well, you certainly made an impression," he said, leaning on the railing beside me.

I sighed. "I had to do something. They can't just dictate my life."

Tyron nodded. "I get it. But maybe next time, try not to destroy the dining room in the process."

I chuckled despite myself. "Yeah, I might have gone a bit overboard with that."

He gave me a sideways glance. "Just a bit. But hey, at least they'll think twice about pushing you into anything now."

I nodded, feeling a bit lighter. "Thanks, Tyron. For being here and for understanding."

He smiled. "That's what friends are for. Now, what's the plan? Are you going to hide out here all night?"

I looked back at the house, where I could hear muffled voices and the clinking of dishes as they cleaned up the mess I had made. "I guess I should go back in eventually. Face the music."

Tyron put a hand on my shoulder. "You'll be fine. Just remember, you're not alone in this. And if you need a quick escape, you know who to call."

I smiled, feeling a surge of gratitude for his unwavering support. "Thanks, Tyron. I really appreciate it."

I knew one thing for certain—I wasn't going to let anyone else dictate my life. Not anymore.

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