“I shattered my arm,” I continued, staring into his sweating face. “And when I came home from the ER in agony, you didn’t ask if I was okay. You told me my broken bones were an inconvenience to your party.

You demanded I perform my ‘duty.'”

I swept my gaze across the stunned room — his colleagues, his friends, and finally his mother.

“So let’s be perfectly clear,” I said. “I did not ruin your birthday, Jason. I paid nearly three thousand dollars to make sure your party was flawless.

The only thing I ruined was your disguise.”

I turned to Linda, trembling in the corner.