Cynthia rolled her eyes. If only. “What are you doing at my house?”
“Why? Am I not allowed to be here?”
“Yes, you are not,” Cynthia said. “Leave before I ask the security guards to throw you out.”
She needed to have a word with the guards about not letting Aurelia through the gate ever again.
“What about my hand?” Aurelia demanded. She held it up to Cynthia. “Look, it's swelling. You must have a first aid kit. Let me use it before you throw me out.”
“You're not welcome in this house,” Cynthia told her. “You've recovered from worse injuries than a squeezed hand. You'll be fine.”
“So, did you do it deliberately?”
“If you don't leave, what will happen to you will be much worse.” She slammed the door a second time. This time, the door jammed mid-day. She thought it was A
