Portia answered it from your phone.”
He turned to look at his bride.
“You were stressed,” Portia said quickly.
“I didn’t want your mother ruining your morning with her drama!”
“You read my messages?” Emerson said, his voice dropping.
“I did it to protect you!”
Rosalind unfolded the paper and read it aloud into the microphone. “‘Now you finally look like what you really are: a pathetic, useless old woman taking up space.'”
A suffocating silence fell.
Women covered their mouths.
Emerson’s uncle swore under his breath.