[You just need to do what you always did.]
Emma's gaze hardened as she studied the photo more closely, her eyes narrowing at the sight of Jane—Mia to some—who sat laughing, seemingly carefree with a boy across from her at a small diner.
'It is him!'
The boy was none other than the very one who had stepped in last time when Emma had gotten overly aggressive with Jane.
That boy had become a thorn in her side, his defiance an irritation. Thus, she had taught him a lesson. She still remembered how she had stepped on him; it was truly an ethereal feeling. Being in power in such situations was really something addicting, after all.
'Heh, this is why I hate such bigots. They can't ascertain the type of girls that would be fit for them.'
