The smile vanished from her face.

“My salary is mine,” I said, looking at them both. “Marvin has two working hands and can make his own breakfast. I will never be anyone’s servant, and my body is not a grandchild factory for your family.”

Camryn gasped and wheeled on her son.

“Hit her, Marvin! Make her respect you!”

Marvin took a fearful step backward into the corner of the kitchen.

“I can’t, Mom,” he whispered.