Amanda froze. The entire hallway fell silent.
I leaned in close to Amanda.
"Do you really think Michael's sixty-thousand-dollar FDNY salary can afford your Chanel, your Gucci, and your Louboutins?"

Let me put it this way.
If it weren't for my annual income of over three hundred thousand dollars, this family would have collapsed years ago.
Including Michael standing next to you—he'd be starving."
I sneered.
"You think this outfit you're wearing came from him?"
From your blowouts at Drybar to those red-bottom shoes, to that Tiffany necklace around your neck."

I reached out, grabbed the necklace, and yanked.
"It's all my money!"
The chain snapped. It clattered onto the hospital linoleum.
Amanda stood there like a statue, too shocked to react.

I tilted my head, my smile dripping with sarcasm.
"You ate my food, spent my money. Now you have to pay it back. My lawyer will be sending a demand letter for the return of all financial support Michael has diverted to you over the years. Better get your bank statements ready."
I turned on my heel and walked away.
I kicked the broken Tiffany necklace backward as I walked.
It skittered across the floor.
Only Amanda and Michael remained, standing there like idiots.
"Emily! Emily, wait!" Michael called out behind me.
I didn't look back.
I pressed the elevator button.