Five minutes later, my father called. I let it ring. Then my mother. Then Madison again. Then an unknown number.
I answered the unknown number because I already knew who it was.
“Emily Carter,” I said.
Victor’s voice was calm. “I apologize for disturbing your evening.”
“You didn’t.”
“I left your parents’ house.”
I set my mug down. “That bad?”
“I have attended worse events,” he said. “But rarely with such poor potato salad.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
Then his tone shifted. “Your mother told several guests you were between jobs. Your father implied you had exaggerated your position at Hartwell. When I corrected them, Mrs. Carter became upset.”Parenting books
I pictured my mother’s face collapsing in front of her friends, not from guilt, but from being exposed.
“What did you say?” I asked.
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