Sloane's livestream.
Thirty thousand people.
I looked at Sloane.
“Is the video still online?”
Her face changed.
“I ended the live.”
“That wasn't my question.”
“I can delete it.”
“Don't.”
She blinked.
Evan looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because you wanted people to see it.”
Sloane's voice became defensive.
“I said I was sorry.”
“Not yet.”
Her lips parted.
She realized I was right.
She had said it was unacceptable.
She had explained.
She had said this looked terrible.
But she had not actually apologized to me.
Her cheeks turned red.
“I'm sorry.”
“For?”
“Sloane,” her father warned.
“No.” I kept my eyes on her. “Let her decide.”
She breathed in.
Then out.
“I am sorry for pouring the drink over you.”
I waited.
“For making comments about your body.”
Another breath.
“For filming you.”
Her voice weakened.
“For treating you like you didn't matter.”
There.
The room changed again.
Because that was the truth.
I nodded once.
“Thank you.”
She looked surprised.
Maybe she expected me to reject anything she offered.
“But I'm not asking you to delete the video.”