Page 214 of Wrong Pucking Player

“Wh-What have you done?” she dares to ask me.

Honestly, I have no clue.

“It’s not what she’s done,” Wyatt announces. “It’s what you’ve confessed to doing, Aunt Beverley.”

A shift in my gaze confirms Wyatt now has the phone and encourages Armani to join back in the drills so no one else is suspicious about what they’re discussing.

“My dad and I have been LONG waiting to finally catch you red-handed for everything you’ve done to my girl. If I knew how bitterly addicting revenge would be in this very moment, I would have done it a lot faster.”

“Y-YOU! You both are setting me up!!”

“OPEN UP!! STRATTONVILLE POLICE!”

“BEVERLY!”

“I-I’m coming! Hold on!” she screams. “You two won’t get away with this! I swear!”

“Swear all you want,” Wyatt comments as he’s now stretching his free hand and using it to cover the sun’s rays as he looks my way with a gleaming grin. “Actions have consequences, Aunt B, and it’s about time you faced the hand of justice.”

I’m holding my breath because I can’t believe this is real, happening in real time.

My aunt is finally going to be out of my life.

“Also, hope you put that money in a savings fund,” Wyatt continues, and his voice dips so low, I barely catch the next words that are haunting. “For when the court is done with you, I’m going to make sure every single penny you’ve taken from my Xandra is returned with twenty years of interest.”

“BEVERLY ROSEDALE HILLS! YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!”

The drop of the phone follows with more cries and screams from the woman in question before the phone line goes dead on her end.

“Damn,” I whisper and don’t even know what to say.

“Gotta give props to Oscar,” Wyatt comments. “I know I try to work quickly with certain things, but Oscar and Oliver work faster…wait. Oliver and Oscar are related?”

It’s as if he’s only now registering what Oscar stated earlier.

“Wait. How did you manage to get on the other line when I was talking to Aunt B?” I'm curious as fuck.

“Tapping phones is a side hobby of mine,” he admits.

Tapping phones is a hobby of his.

Why.

Is that how he was able to… fuck.

Wait…

“Tell me. Did you tap into my phone call with Oscar a few weeks ago? When we all had dinner together that night?”

He doesn’t answer.

“That’s why you went to the building washroom,” I piece together, feeling the warmth rush to my cheeks.

“Well, I actually went there to jerk off to your conversation with one another, but then I got frustrated that I never experienced it with you, which led to the events that unfolded that night,” he summarizes, sounding a bit guilty. He’s turning around from where he stands as if to ensure I don’t see whatever expression is on his face.

“You realize if you were just honest with your feelings, you could have come up and joined in what was originally planned.”

He has no defense to that.

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