You’re fine.
Just sit.”
His voice carried just enough for people nearby to hear the concern.
Noella swept in from the other side, pressing her hand to Sirene’s shoulder.
Her expression the perfect picture of maternal alarm.
“Sweetheart, breathe.
You probably just stood too fast.”
But I saw it.
The fleeting flash of panic in their eyes, the silent communication between them that didn’t match the words coming out of their mouths.
I stayed in my seat, posture relaxed, glass in hand.
On the surface, I was a quiet observer, but inside I felt the momentum shift, a current changing direction.
The murmurss in the room grew, eyes darting from Sirene to me and back again.
I noted every one of them.
Veila, lingering in the periphery, my professor frowning as though piecing something together.
Two cousins who’d avoided me all night suddenly watching like they’d been waiting for this.
Then Hollis was beside me, moving in with the ease of someone who belonged.
They didn’t sit.
Instead, they leaned slightly, phone in hand, screen tilted so only I could see.
“You’ll want to see this now,” they murmured.
The video was crystal clear.
Grady’s hand slipping something into my champagne while pretending to straighten my fork.
The faint swirl in the glass, then me stepping towards Sirene, the smile, the swap, her taking the glass without hesitation, every detail preserved in perfect sequence.
I let the phone rest in my palm, thumb hovering over the screen.
I could end it right here, stand, raise my voice, show everyone exactly what had happened.
It would be quick, decisive, but it would also be messy, and they would spin it before the shock even settled.
Better to let them think they still had the upper hand.
The longer they believed it, the sharper the fall.
Sirene was back in her chair now, a napkin pressed to her lips, her complexion pale.
A waiter hurried past toward the front entrance, calling for medical assistance.
Across the room, Grady bent his head close to Noella’s, speaking in a voice too low for anyone else to hear.
Her eyes flicked toward me for the briefest moment before returning to Sirene.
I leaned toward Hollis, handing the phone back without looking down again.
“Keep that video safe,” I said quietly.
“We’re not done yet.”
The ballroom was in chaos, half the guests craning to see what was happening to Sirene, the other half murmuring in hush disbelief.
Paramedics pushed through the crowd, their bags swinging at their sides while servers tried to clear plates without drawing more attention.
It was the perfect distraction.
I rose from my seat with a steady calm that belied the electricity under my skin.
This was the moment.
I moved toward the AV booth, tucked in the corner, my heels soundless on the carpet.
The technician looked up startled as I slipped a small USB drive into his hand.
“Play this,” I said quietly, my gaze holding his until he nodded.
The screen above the stage flickered, the image from the slideshow vanishing mid-frame.
A different video bloomed into view, one far less flattering to my family.
First, Grady leaning over my place setting, his hand hovering like he was adjusting a fork.
Then the subtle tilt of his fingers, the grainy outline of a packet disappearing into the golden liquid of my champagne, the faint fizz that followed.
Next, me crossing to Sirene’s table, smiling, the easy exchange of glasses.
Sirene lifting it without hesitation.
In the corner of the video, the timestamp glowed, perfectly matching the evening’s timeline.
The sound in the room fractured.
gasps, sharp whispers, the rustle of chairs.
Veila’s face drained of color.