She looked at the evidence, and she looked at my son, and she chose the truth over the life she had spent a year planning, in the space of about ten minutes, barefoot, in front of everyone.

It cost her more than it cost anyone but me, and she paid it without hesitating.

I have not seen her since.

But I think of her as the one adult in that entire ballroom, besides my son, who did the brave thing when it was expensive.

Chapter 11 — The Reckoning

The months after were not clean, but they were necessary, and they moved in one direction only: toward the truth finally being counted.