His face hardened to stone. For a second the polished mask slipped entirely, and the tyrant showed through. “You have always had a unique talent for disrespecting me,” he hissed, his voice trembling with suppressed rage.

A deep calm settled in my chest. The last ghost died.

“I was nineteen when you threw me out into a thunderstorm,” I said flatly.

“You made your choice!”

“I refused to be traded like a commodity.”

“You refused to serve your family!”