The color drained from Beatrice’s face.

He went on, “Audrey didn’t get those scars in some accident. She got them dragging me through shattered glass and fire after your illegal decorations blocked the emergency exit.”

The room erupted.

Beatrice staggered back. “That’s a lie.”

“No,” I said. “The fire marshal’s amended report comes out Monday.”

Part 3

Beatrice lunged for the microphone.

I reached it first.

“For years,” I said, “you called me damaged, ungrateful, useless. Tonight you turned my medical trauma into a punchline. So let’s talk about what you were hoping no one would see.”

Maya handed the attorneys three folders.