Millie’s hands shook as she pulled Cody’s phone from its charger under Sabrina’s bed. Her heart thudded so hard it hurt. She pressed the power button. The screen lit up with that stupid motorcycle wallpaper from their trip two months ago. Two bars of battery.
“What the hell, Cody,” she muttered.
Then it hit her—the condom wrappers on the floor, Sabrina’s livestream bragging about her “cute bartender.” It wasn’t a coincidence. Her chest burned.
She grabbed the wrappers, shoved Cody’s phone into her bag, and walked out.
Sabrina’s voice followed, high and confused. “Hey, wait, are you done? You didn’t even finish—”
Millie didn’t stop. She didn’t look back. Her body just moved, fueled by anger and disbelief. Screw Sabrina. She needed to deal with this.
Outside, she fumbled for her phone
