“What is it, Henri? Are you really going to make a mountain out of a molehill?” Tom taunted, trying to sound unconcerned.

That remark was the last straw. Henri clenched his fist tightly, feeling his blood boil in his veins.

“A molehill?” he repeated, his voice overtaken by anger. “Do you really think what you did was insignificant?”

On the other end of the line, Tom’s silence lasted only a second before Henri continued, no longer holding back his words:

“You should be grateful I didn’t beat you