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The Villain

“Why don’t you just let the poor woman have her food and enjoy it?” Emerson said, his voice calm but cutting through the tension at the table. “She’s pregnant, so whatever she feels like eating, just let her have it.”

Eric’s gaze snapped toward his father, Emerson, accusingly.

“You know what? You didn’t even want me here,” he retorted.

Emerson sighed, his patience fraying. “I was the one who asked you here for a family dinner,” he reminded him.

“Yes,” Eric countered, “and then your wife made this whole thing her stage for revenge, didn’t you?” He threw a sharp look in my direction.

“Eric, please sit down,” Emerson said, his voice a bit firmer as he tried to keep some semblance of control. But Eric ignored him, now standing, looking ready to storm out.

“I’ve had enough of today,” Eric spat. “We just came back from our honeymoon, where I was with my beautiful pregnant wife, enjoying our time together. And the first moment we get back, we’re thrown into this mess where people are trying
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