He didn’t move, but his presence became immovable.
Victoria’s eyes landed on me across the room. Her gaze was sharp, accusatory, wounded, as if I’d personally escorted her into exile.
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t glare. I simply held my glass of water and looked back with the calm of someone who had already survived her.
The security coordinator guided her toward the exit. No struggle. No shouting. No scene she could weaponize later.
Just a door closing gently on her access.
When she was gone, the room exhaled and returned to its purpose. A woman near the silent auction table dabbed her eyes and said, “I didn’t think she’d have the nerve.”
Paige appeared beside me a minute later, face pale. “Was that—”
“Yes,” I said.
Paige’s jaw tightened. “I’m sorry,” she said automatically, like a reflex.
“You didn’t invite her,” I replied. “And you didn’t protect her. That’s what matters.”
Paige swallowed. “I used to think power was walking into a room and everyone bending,” she murmured. “Now I think power is walking into a room and no one having to bend.”
I looked at her, surprised by the insight. “That’s a better sentence than you realize,” I said.