Her voice rose, wild, desperate.
And then she snapped.

“If I have no place here, then none of this matters!” she screamed, sweeping her arm across the table.
Gifts crashed to the ground. Wrapping paper tore. Guests gasped.

She grabbed a crystal vase — a gift from my mother — and hurled it against the brick wall. The explosion of glass sounded like a gunshot. Shards scattered at my feet.

Mark rushed forward. “Mom! Stop!”
But she shoved him hard. “You let her turn you against me!” she shrieked. “This is my family!”

Phones came out. Guests backed away.
And I? I stayed still. Calm. Because I finally had everything I needed.