Every word, every syllable, landed like a lash on Mr. Greyson's already raw nerves.
"Don't call the police? She brought this on herself!"
The muscles in his face twitched. "She destroyed half my life's work! I'm putting her behind bars today!"
Dennis pumped his fist in the air. "Hope, you're just too kind! Why waste your sympathy on someone like that? Call the cops right now. Show up at her door with handcuffs!"
The coworkers around him nodded along, a chorus of agreement and curses filling the room.
Inside that cramped, run-down conference room, the wave of accusations against me crested to its peak.
Mr. Greyson had made up his mind.
He sucked in a sharp breath and roared, "Everybody shut the hell up!"
The room went dead silent.
Mr. Greyson snatched up his phone, his thumb slamming down on three digits: 9-1-1.
He deliberately switched it to speakerphone and set the phone in the exact center of the table.
On the video call, Hope leaned forward, her eyes blazing with barely contained glee.
Dennis clenched his fists. Every person in the company held their breath.
The call connected.
"911, what's your emergency?"
The dispatcher's voice had barely filled the room when—
BANG.