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“What the hell did you just say?”

A deep, furious voice came from behind Emily.

She froze.

She turned around—slowly—only to find Lucas standing just a few feet away.

His gaze cut through her like a blade, burning with something between betrayal and fury.

Before she could say a word, he strode into the café.

Amelia stood nearby, clutching her reddened cheek with watery eyes, playing the role of the helpless victim to perfection. The second Lucas neared them, she stepped forward and reached out a trembling hand.

“Lucas, don’t be angry at Emily. She didn’t—”

But Lucas didn’t even glance at her.

He went straight to Emily, his hands reaching for her arms as his eyes scanned her face and body with concern. “What happened? Did you get hurt?” His voice was low and urgent. “Someone told me you got into a fight. I came the second I heard. Are you okay? Why are you so upset?”

Emily immediately yanked her arm from his grip, folding her arms across her chest as she looked him in the eye. “Mr. Cantrell, maybe you should worry about your Amelia. Like always. That version of your face... it feels disturbingly unfamiliar to me.”

Lucas dropped his hands, his jaw tightening, anger flickering behind his eyes at her cold tone.

Amelia took the moment to slide closer to him again. Still clinging to her innocent act, she stepped closer to Lucas with a soft whimper. “Don’t worry, Lucas. I’m fine. I won’t trouble you like Emily. I’m not that kind of person.”

Lucas glanced at her—and for the first time, he noticed the faint handprint on her cheek.

His brows furrowed. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s my fault,” Amelia cut in quickly, her voice breaking like a wounded child. “Don’t blame Emily. It’s my fault. I just saw her with another man—you warned her not to see him anymore, and I was afraid you’d be hurt. I only tried to help. I told her there’snothing going on between you and me, that we’re just friends. She misunderstood and… she slapped me.”

She let out a soft whimper, her eyes brimming with fake tears. “It’s okay, really. She must’ve been stressed… I don’t blame her. Please don’t get angry at her.”

Lucas turned his eyes to Emily again. His brows raised.

“Again, Emily? This same thing?”

Emily blinked, unfazed. “Yeah,” she said flatly. “It’s fun.”

Jeremy choked on his drink, spitting beer everywhere for the second time that day.

Lucas’s expression twisted into rage. “Emily, you seriously need to get your jealousy under control. I’ve warned you so many damn times. You’re hurting people now. You slapped her? What is wrong with you?!”

Whatever patience Emily had left for his Amelia-blindness snapped right then.

“You might be blind when it comes to this woman, Lucas Cantrell, but I’m not. If she lays a finger on me again, I won’t just slap her—I’ll beat her to a pulp every single time she shows up in front of me. Got it?” she hissed, her voice sharp with fury. “You want to protect her? Go ahead. But don’t expect me to play along when you can’t see past her fake tears and that pathetic face.”

She grabbed her purse off the table and stormed out of the café without a second look.

Jeremy stood up, tossed a final glance between Lucas and Amelia, and scoffed. “Mr. Cantrell,” he said mockingly, “you’re a real class act. Publicly humiliating your girlfriend. Asking her to apologize while Amelia cries crocodile tears and slanders herin front of a crowd. Supporting another woman over your own partner... Impressive. Really.”

He shot them a sarcastic smile and followed Emily out of the mall.

Lucas’s jaw was clenched, his muscles coiled with rage. His eyes flashed darkly as he turned to Amelia.

“What did you do?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.

Amelia slowly lowered her hand from her cheek. “I didn’t do anything. I already told you what Emily did. I’m telling you the truth, Lucas… You don’t believe me?”