A dramatic sniffle. "If you're still angry, I'll come apologize right now. You can hit me, scold me, whatever you want. Just... please tell us where you are. I don't want to be the reason you two fight."
Her voice was thick with tears, painting herself as the aggrieved, self-sacrificing victim. A masterclass in manipulation. To a man, she sounded like a fragile flower being crushed. To me, the malice dripping from every word was unmistakable.
I let out a cold laugh. "You want to apologize?"
"Yes, anything," she sobbed.
"Fine. Slap yourself. Right now."
Silence—then a sharp, crisp crack.
Emily let out a suppressed whimper. "Scarlett... I did it. Can you forgive Rhys now?"
Before I could answer, Rhys roared into the phone.
"Scarlett Taylor, are you insane?"
His voice was laced with venom. "Emily is just a kid! She just graduated! I helped her with a parking spot, and you force her to slap herself? Is this how petty you've become? You're acting like a shrew!"
First time in eight years he'd ever raised his voice at me like that. And he did it for her.
Emily coughed lightly in the background, playing the martyr. "Rhys, stop... She's pregnant. Don't yell at her because of me. I'll feel guilty."