"Andreas!! Andreas!!"
Clara threw her shoes at the television, screaming at the top of her lungs. She had been breaking things since they left the company; she couldn't stand a minute without cursing and throwing things around.
Her hair looked disheveled, her makeup smeared, and her sleeves displaced.
"Why is your father so heartless? We do everything. We do anything for him! For him! We have done everything! Che cazzo!" Clara kicked her bag that was already lying around.
Andreas slumped tiredly, crashed on his couch, his hand covering his face. The man was looking pale, his lips charred from tiredness and stress.
"A girl... a stranger getting the Montclair highest share? All because of pregnancy? Andreas, I fucking carried three of your children and made sure I gave birth through my vagina! Puta!"
Peach winced, turning to look at her mother, then returning her attention to her phone.
