Chapter 4 - A Room Full of Witnesses
Adrian told me not to walk onto the stage. I did anyway.
Vanessa stood beneath a spotlight, scarlet satin glowing against the white marble. On the screen behind her was a paused image of my defensive kick. Nothing before it. Nothing after it.
"This woman attacked me," she told the crowd. "And then she tried to extort my family."
A murmur spread through the room.
"That's a lie," I said.
Every head turned.
Vanessa's smile widened. "How brave. She came back."
I stepped onto the lowest stair. "Show the ten seconds before your clip."
"I don't have to take orders from staff."
"Then show the source file."
She tapped the microphone. "You see? Threats."
A guest in a silver suit raised his hand. "I watched her swing at the waitress first. Twice."
"You misunderstand what you saw," Vanessa said.
"I own the baseball team, Vanessa. I know a kick when I see one."
A few nervous people laughed. The senator with champagne on his jacket looked at his shoes.
Tessa emerged beside the orchestra, holding her phone above her head.
"I have the beginning," she said.
Vanessa snapped her fingers at Reed. "Take that."
Adrian intercepted the guard. "Absolutely not."
Tessa's video played on the screen after an uneasy technician switched the input. Vanessa's heel rose above my head. My body folded out of its path. A woman screamed. Then Vanessa lifted her leg again.
The room changed. Not into a crowd of heroes. Into hundreds of people reconsidering which side would cost them less.
Vanessa grabbed the microphone. "It's edited."
"We'll preserve both files," Adrian said. "And the event's full security records."
He addressed the guests. "My sister's accusation was false. Maya Bennett defended herself. The event will pause while everyone who witnessed this gives a statement."
Vanessa looked at him with open hatred.
"You chose a waitress over your blood."
"I chose what happened."
Then an elderly woman in a wheelchair rolled forward from the first row. Eleanor Sterling, their grandmother and the foundation's founder, had rarely spoken in public since a stroke two years before.
She fixed her eyes on me.
"Daniel's daughter," she whispered.
I crouched beside her. "Yes, Mrs. Sterling."
Her fingers squeezed my wrist with surprising strength.
May you like
"Your father didn't steal the money," she said. "I saw who did."
Before I could ask whom, Eleanor looked toward the balcony and began to cry.
