The boardroom froze. Every shareholder's eyes went wide, disbelief written across their faces as they turned to stare at me.
"Ms. Henson, you... you understand French?"
"That's impossible. She probably just caught a word or two by accident."
"She never even went to college. A public high school graduate from the sticks. She can barely speak English—how could she possibly know French?"
Fourteen pairs of eyes bore into me, skeptical, probing. I picked up a napkin, wiped my hands clean, and dropped it at the feet of Beulah, who stood there looking like she'd been slapped.
"Has it ever occurred to any of you that I might be hiding who I really am on purpose?"
The words barely left my mouth before Beulah's face twisted with humiliation and fury. She snatched the ashtray off the table and hurled it at me.
I dodged. The ashtray sailed past and shattered against a potted plant.
"Hiding who you really are?" She spat. "Give me a break."
"I dug up everything there is to know about you a long time ago."