Final Cuts
“You said we’d build a life together, Emily,” he muttered.
I stopped him with a hand. “I built a life. You just thought you could ride along. You were wrong.”
Turning to Brittany, I added, “He’ll be out by the end of the week. By law, he can take his clothes and maybe a laptop if he finds it. My lawyers will be in touch.”
The room froze.
Brittany’s face drained — not from shame, but from realization.
“You’ve got potential,” I told her softly. “But not with this. You and your daughter deserve better.”
She clenched her jaw, nodded, and shot Matt a glare sharp as glass before walking out.
