“You called me 'big girl' on a livestream.”
Silence.
“And then you poured a drink over me because Evan bet you five hundred dollars that I would jump.”
Richard Mercer's face had gone gray.
Daniel looked at me.
“You didn't tell me that part.”
“I know.”
His hand closed slowly into a fist on the table.
I covered it with mine.
“No.”
He looked at me.
I shook my head.
Not that way.
His fingers relaxed.
I turned back to Sloane.
“Do you know why I didn't move?”
Her eyes met mine.
“No.”
“Because by then I understood what you wanted.”
I leaned back.
“You wanted me to perform being hurt for you.”
Sloane's eyes flickered.
“You wanted embarrassment. Maybe tears. Maybe anger. Then you could laugh about the crazy waitress who couldn't take a joke.”
“No—”
“Yes.”
I wasn't yelling.
That seemed to make it harder for her.
“You didn't know me. You didn't hate me. I hadn't done anything to you. I was useful because you thought nothing in your life depended on how you treated me.”
Nobody spoke.
I had never addressed a billion-dollar business meeting before.
It felt surprisingly similar to calming an angry table.
You breathed.
You watched people.
You said the thing everyone was avoiding.
Richard cleared his throat.
“Grace, you are absolutely right. And I am profoundly sorry.”
I looked at him.
“I believe you're sorry.”
His face tightened.
He knew what was coming.
“I don't know what you're sorry for.”
He glanced at Daniel.