While I was trapped in a burning apartment fighting not to die, he was at a world-class venue overseas, arms around his little junior, smiling as he told everyone she was his lover.
If I'd actually burned to death, he wouldn't even have known.
When I didn't speak, just stared at him with that cold, unfamiliar look, something in Les shifted. He yanked off his tie, irritated, and tossed the suitcase aside.
"Are you done throwing a fit? So you didn't get to go to the conference—so what? You're already a well-known young scholar in this country. Can you stop fighting over scraps like a child? Michelle's still young. She needs the exposure."
"I'm the one making a scene?" My voice finally came, so hoarse it scraped, but underneath it was something worse than anger. Dead calm.
"You took my conference spot. You locked me in this apartment. The apartment caught fire and I nearly died inside it. I called you over a dozen times. You were with your junior, celebrating her birthday, telling the whole world she was your lover."
Every word came out bitten off, forced through clenched teeth.