Paula stepped back into the living room, her steps hesitant as she re-entered the space. As she entered the roomy area, her gaze locked with Len's.
He was already dressed, his suit sharp and neat, and he was holding Paula's phone with a nonchalant grip.
Paula's eyes narrowed as she approached him, her hand extending out. "Give me my phone, Len," she said, her voice steady but firm.
Len's expression was neutral, like a mask covering up the chaos below. He held the phone away, his fingers lingering over the screen. "Let's talk before you leave," he said, his tone resolute and unmoving.
Paula's eyes flashed with frustration, her fingers reaching for the phone. "What's there to talk about? The divorce? Oh… are you suddenly interested in the fact that I was framed by your mother and Melissa?" Her chuckle was rough, almost mocking. "You don't need to worry, Mr. Bertram. If I wasn't over it, I wouldn't be back."
