I have the — Whitney, I have the thank-you cards ready to send.”
Whitney said nothing.
She stood at the head table in her beautiful gown, and for the first time all evening, for the first time in my entire memory of her, she looked genuinely frightened.
Not annoyed.
Not caught in something she could talk her way out of.
Frightened, in the specific way of a person who has just understood that the story she controls has stopped being a story she controls.
I could have stopped there.
I want to be honest about that.
What was already on the screen was enough to end the evening — enough to expose her to everyone whose opinion she cared about.
If this had been about revenge, I could have set down the microphone and let the room do the rest.
But it wasn’t quite about revenge, and there was a piece I couldn’t show them, because it lived in someone else’s hands.
I was about to find out that I wasn’t the only person in that building who had been keeping a careful record.
Because a voice came from the back of the ballroom — a voice I didn’t recognize, steady and tired and clear.
“I think everyone deserves to see the rest,” it said.
Chapter 10 — Melissa
Every head turned toward the great doors at the back of the ballroom.
A woman stood there in a charcoal suit, a thick binder held against her chest with both arms.
Beside her stood a heavyset man in the discreet dark clothing of venue management.