Chapter 21: On His Knees

Quentin's POV

I had rehearsed this for three years, in showers and in aeroplane seats and on the floor of my flat at night.

None of it was any use.

"Three years ago I stood where I'm standing," I said into the microphone. "A recording played, and a woman I loved said it wasn't true."

Two hundred faces watched me.

"I asked her one question. She answered it."

I made myself keep my eyes on the room.

"I looked at her for the length of a breath, and then I took her bangle off her wrist myself and let it drop."

I heard the room draw in.

"I did not ask a second question. I did not ask for the file, or the date, or who sent it. I did not ask her anything at all."

Sabina stood beside me, very still, with her hands at her sides.

"My mother arranged this," I said. "That is true, and it doesn't excuse me."

I tightened my hand on the microphone.

"She put a lie in front of me and I believed it in a minute. It was easier than believing in Sabina."

Behind me, someone was leading my mother off the stage. She had stopped crying and gone quiet, and that was worse.

I didn't turn around.

"The Foundation's counsel is at table six," I said. "As of this minute every filing against Sabina Brunner in New York is withdrawn."

I found the counsel's face in the crowd.

"I'll sign it in front of everyone."

The old man from the board stood up at table two.

"I second it," he said. "We all do."

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