Cheng left in a rush, carrying the card as if it were more important than the flowers or fruit basket. He gave a polite nod to Susan and her mother before catching up with James and me.
Susan, however, was not about to let the situation rest. Her frustration boiled over, and her voice, now shrill with anger, followed us down the hallway.
"What do you mean we owe each other nothing?" she cried, her words laced with indignation. "My hand was almost broken, and Zelda was just slapped in the face. How is that the same? And that card—how could he take it back?"
I felt the weight of her glare without turning to meet it. She was livid, but her tears and outrage were a performance, just another one of her twisted games. I had seen it all before—the victim act, the exaggeration, the mani
