The Owner of The Hotel
Anastasia rushed out of the car the moment she arrived home. The house was eerily quiet until she entered the living room, where Bella stood, clutching an empty whiskey glass, staring at Marleen.
"Did I ask you to take care of me?" Bella shouted. "No, right!" Her voice cracked, and her eyes were bloodshot with anger. "Dad is dead, and what the hell are you still doing, playing house! You can get the hell out of here now!"
"Bella!" Anastasia stepped forward. "Don't be rude."
"And I did! So what?" Bella sneered. "I have the right! You—and you!" She pointed angrily at both of them. "Get out of this house right now! I don't want to see either of you anymore!"
"Calm down, Bella…" Anastasia softened her tone as she stepped closer. "I've never denied that this is yours. I've told you again and again, I don't want any of it." Her gaze shifted to her mother. "If you want, we can move out. Just give us some time to find another place."