She stood and closed the distance until I could smell her stale perfume. Her claw-like fingers clamped onto my chin and jerked my face upward, acrylic nails digging into my jawline.

“Listen to me, you little brat,” she hissed. “The man is the master. You are the servant. The faster you bow, the less it hurts. Since your own garbage mother never taught you that, I will.”

The mention of my mother was the trigger.

Mr. Stanley’s voice echoed in my skull. Alex, every drop of sweat you bleed on this mat is so you never have to kneel on broken glass again.

The terrified daughter-in-law didn’t fade. She evaporated.

Without breaking eye contact, my hand came up. I gripped her wrist, applying just enough pressure to a nerve cluster that her fingers went numb, peeled her hand off my face, and pushed her arm away.