Rebecca seemed oblivious to the pain. Her eyes had never left mine as she yelled, “Ashton’s not dead, and so are you. Why must Armond die when the two of you managed to live?”
I had no clue what she was going on about. I was only certain of her resentment of me.
Emery butted in angrily, “Armond deserved it. No one owed anything to him. If you think your life’s too long, I can always send you and your b*tchy face to prison for life!”
Rebecca ignored Emery’s words completely. Her ire was directed completely at me. “You know what, I’m glad to be alive. I’m going to make your life a living hell!”
Emery slapped her. “Rebecca, you should go see a doctor if you’re barking mad. Don’t make me show you what a living hell really is!”
Just then, a fashionably dressed man in a beret walked past our room. At the sight of Rebecca lying on the floor, he rushed forward to help her up. “Oh god, why are you making a mess again? What if the paparazzi were around? You’ll be dead!”
“They can take as many photos as they want! They’re all just a bunch of keyboard warriors. They’ve been attacking me since my debut, but I’m still as popular as I’ve ever been!” Rebecca retorted. Her prima donna attitude turned me off.
I guessed that she was some sort of celebrity. The frustrated-looking man beside her was probably her manager.
Her manager seemed to be more tactful than Rebecca was. When he recognized Emery, he immediately offered an apology. “Ms. Moore, I’m so sorry. Vivian must be drunk. I hope you can forgive her behavior. I’ll apologize on her behalf.”
Haughtily, Emery replied, “If this happens again, I’ll put both of you out of work.”
“It won’t, I promise.”
With an awkward smile on his face, he dragged Rebecca out of the room.
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