The manager’s office buzzed with heavy energy as Carol Brooks lounged on the plush sofa, her flashy outfit clashing sharply with the fury in her voice.
The air seemed to ripple with her anger, her manicured nails drumming sharply on the armrest.
"What sort of establishment is this?" Carol spat, glaring daggers at Emily, who stood a few steps away, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. "You let a worthless person like her lay a hand on my daughter? Do you want to lose your job?"
The manager stood awkwardly nearby, bowing his head in apology. "Mrs. Brooks, please calm down. I assure you, we’ll handle this—"
"Handle it?" Carol cut him off sharply, her voice a peak of anger. "Do you think an apology can fix this? My Julia is in tears because of that... that thing! She’s ungraceful, ill-mannered, and clearly raised in filth. How dare you hire someone like her?"
Emily swallowed hard, her lips pressing into a tight line. The heat of humiliation burned in her cheeks, but she refused to look away.
"If you want to keep this establishment running," Carol continued, her voice shrill, "you’ll make her kneel and apologize to Julia. And after that, fire her immediately! Trash like her doesn’t belong here."
The manager flinched at her final demand. "Mrs. Brooks, I—"
"Do it, or I’ll have this place shut down within a week," Carol snapped, her eyes narrowing into slits.
The manager turned to Emily, his face a mix of pity and frustration. "Emily Wilson, just apologize. Let’s end this."
Emily’s fists tightened. Her pride screamed against the words forming on her tongue. She glanced at the manager, then back at Carol, whose smirk oozed satisfaction. "I didn’t do anything wrong," Emily said quietly.
"What did you say?" Carol’s voice pitched dangerously high, and she surged forward. "You don’t get to talk back to me, you—"
Her raised hand was intercepted by a loud bang as the office door flew open.
All eyes turned to the figure standing in the doorway, his presence dominating the room like an unstoppable storm. Ryan Kane walked in, his movements deliberate and confident, his cold gaze scanning the scene. He exuded a dangerous aura that silenced even Carol’s fury, her mouth falling open in shock.
Ryan’s sharp eyes landed on Emily. With a single stride, he was beside her, his large hand settling on her head with a familiarity that startled everyone present. "Sorry," he murmured softly, his voice like gravel and velvet. "I’m late."
Emily blinked, her calmness wavering. She hadn’t seen him in months, and yet, the sight of him now felt like a balm against the raw wounds of the moment. Her vision blurred as she struggled to hold back the tears threatening to spill.
"Who the hell are you?" Carol’s voice cut through the silence, but it lacked its earlier venom. There was something about Ryan—something in his calm, lethal demeanor—that left her unnerved.
Ryan’s gaze didn’t waver from Emily as he answered, "The closest person to my Emily."
His words stirred something deep within her, a conflicting mix of relief and resentment. She tensed up, refusing to lean into the comfort his presence offered.
Carol, regaining some of her confidence, sneered. "Good, then tell me. Your Emily hit my daughter. What are you going to do about it?"
Ryan turned his head slightly, finally addressing Emily with a look so cold it could have frozen the air around her. "Why did you hit someone, Emily?" he asked, his tone low, almost gentle.
Emily looked away, her jaw tightening. "I don’t need to explain myself."
Ryan’s hand dropped to her shoulder, his grip firm. "Tell me," he said, his voice hardening.
Emily’s frustration boiled over. "I hit her because I wanted to," she snapped, her words laced with confidence. "Why does it matter?"
