Chapter 9 - THE PUBLIC RECKONING
The ballroom was empty except for a single table in the center.
Tiffany sat there,
looking like a ghost.
Her father stood behind her,
his face a mask of cold fury.
My mother sat to the left,
clutching her purse as if it were the only thing she had left.
I walked in with Ethan,
who was holding my hand firmly.
Julian was there too,
standing near the back,
watching with an unreadable expression.
At six-oh-five,
the doors opened,
and Caleb walked in.
He was sober,
clean-shaven,
but he looked like he had aged ten years in a week.
He didn't go to Tiffany.
He didn't go to my mother.
He walked straight to me and Ethan and stood beside us.
“I’m here,” he said,
his voice steady.
I looked at the Monroes.
“Let’s begin,” I said.
I pulled out my phone and started the live stream.
There were already fifty thousand people watching,
the "Sad Single Mother" story had gripped the nation.
“Tiffany,” I said.
“The floor is yours.”
Tiffany stood up,
her voice shaking as she read from the paper I had prepared.
“I want to apologize to Grace Parker and her son,
Ethan.”
“The comments I made at my wedding were cruel,
premeditated,
and untrue.”
“Grace is a brilliant architect and a devoted mother,
and I acted out of insecurity and malice.”
Her father looked like he wanted to vomit,
but he didn't stop her.
He knew the spa project depended on this.
Then it was my mother’s turn.
She didn't read from a paper.
She looked at me,
really looked at me,
and for a second,
I saw a flicker of the woman she could have been.
“I was wrong,
Grace,” she said,
her voice barely a whisper.
“You aren't a clearance item.”
“You’re the best of us,
and I was too small to see it.”
Ethan squeezed my hand.
I turned off the stream.
“The spa funding will be restored tomorrow,” I said to the Monroes.
“And the eviction notice is stayed for six months.”
“But you are all dead to me.”
“Except for you,
Caleb.”
I looked at my brother.
“You have a lot of work to do.”
He nodded,
tears streaming down his face.
“I know,
May you like
Grace.
I know.”
