"What? An apology?" The Marquise of Balmer's voice rang out so loudly that even the birds chirping in the garden foliage fell silent for a moment. Her eyes flashed, and her lips twisted into an indignant grimace. "You... you demand that my son apologize?!"
At that moment, the Marquise of Balmer looked like an offended aristocrat whose pride had been deeply wounded.
Her son, Dennis, standing next to her, looked like a smaller version of his mother — with the same arrogant expression on his face and a look of fear mixed with anger in his eyes.
He clung to his mother's skirt as if seeking protection, and I remembered how often children in such families were raised to believe that their status entitled them to everything. For this reason, I could not allow this spoiled and self-centered boy to grow up thinking that all his actions would go unpunished.
