I stepped back before he could touch me.

“You’ll lose. And you know it. Grandma Genevieve planned for every contingency, including this one,” I said.

I walked toward the elevator. Behind me, I heard my mother’s voice. “Cecily, wait,” she called out.

I didn’t wait. For the first time in my life, I didn’t need their permission to leave.

The elevator doors closed on my parents’ faces. I leaned against the brushed steel wall and finally let myself breathe.

The adrenaline that had carried me through the past two hours began to ebb, leaving something unexpected in its wake. Not triumph. Not satisfaction. Grief.