Pucking Forbidden Claim
She won’t ignore this.
I press call and lift the phone to my ear, listening to the dial tone stretch on. Just as I expect it to go to voicemail, the line clicks open.
“What now?” Her voice is sharp, tired, like she’s already exhausted by the idea of dealing with me.
I press my eyes shut. “It was Paul.”
Silence. Then, a slow exhale. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The leak,” I say, keeping my voice steady even though my stomach knots just saying it out loud. “The pictures. The videos. He did it.”