#Chapter 92 Tyler

Tyler Silence. Then footsteps, fast and sharp. Her ridiculous heels clicking. I turned slowly as Vivian emerged from the shadows, arms crossed over her chest, one brow lifted in practiced disinterest. “Custom batch.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder. "I'm aware," he said. "And it's fucking horrible." She flushed. "Tyler, you have a lot of nerve talking to --" "You have a lot of nerve pretending like you're the victim," I said, looking at her, I turned my phone on to record in my pocket before turning away and walking. Vivian stormed after me, like she thought the sound of her heels would scar me. Typical. She did it all the time when I wasn't doing what she wanted. She had always mistaken noise for control, chaos for influence. “Don't you walk away from me!” she barked, catching up to me in the corridor just past the east stairwell. I didn’t turn around. Not until she stepped into my path, fury radiating from every inch of her. “You lied to me,” she said