Despite my attempts to bridge the gap between us, Adam continued to ignore me, and Emma's constant presence only added to the tension. She took every opportunity to threaten me, her malicious smile a constant reminder of her vendetta.
One evening, Adam returned home from work, but he was so drunk that the driver had to carry him inside. As soon as Emma saw him, she rushed over, feigning concern. "Adam, what's wrong?" she cooed, trying to take him from the driver.
I emerged from the kitchen, my heart sinking at the sight. "What are you doing?" I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended.
Emma turned to me, her expression innocent. "I was just trying to help."
Ignoring her, I hurried to Adam's side and helped him up the elevator and into our room. He reeked of alcohol, his clo
