Chapter 11: The Founders' Gala

Seven hundred people turned around when I walked into the ballroom.

I wore a dark green dress that Eleanor had picked, and Benedict's arm under my hand, and I kept my chin up.

The whispers started at the front and went to the back.

That's her.

She's the one from the video.

I heard it all, and I kept walking.

Halfway down the aisle, I saw Cade.

He stood by the champagne tower in a navy suit, with Brooke beside him in white.

She had worn white to a gala that was not her wedding.

She held his arm and smiled at everyone who looked at her.

Claudia sat two tables from the front, in a seat that was no longer at the head table, and she did not look at me once.

"Ready?" Benedict said under his breath.

"No," I said. "Keep walking."

Eleanor took the stage at eight.

She tapped the microphone, and the room went quiet.

"Good evening. Before dinner I have a short film," she said. "It's about this family's friends."

The lights dimmed.

A screen the height of the wall came down behind her.

"First, someone will speak," Eleanor said.

The friend in the green jacket walked up the side steps.

His hands shook on the microphone.

"I was at the county office last Friday," he said. "I filmed a woman waiting to see how long it would take her to cry."

A murmur ran through the room.

"I'm sorry, Hallie," he said, looking straight at me. "Watch what we did."

He left the stage fast.

The lights went down all the way.

The first thing on the screen was the passport, being torn.

Brooke's face filled the screen, laughing.

Then the chat.

Brooke, seven weeks ago: Do not tell Cade the passport is real. He'll say he didn't know. Just let him stand there, he's good at it.

Brooke, in another message: Those four will film whatever I tell them. They're too dumb to know what they're part of.

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