The kind where napkins are folded like origami and the water glasses arrive already judging you.
That night I wore a designer suit I’d bought months earlier and never touched—armor waiting for war. Hair done. Makeup precise, not glamorous, just controlled. I didn’t want to look like a new person. I wanted to look like myself… finally given room to stand.
My lawyer walked beside me, expensive shoes clicking like punctuation.
The Washingtons were already seated.
Beverly sat straight, jaw tight.
Howard wore his “I’m not worried” face, failing to hide panic in his eyes.
Crystal looked restless, eyes darting toward the door like she expected rescue.
Andre sat quietly, shoulders tense.
I watched Beverly’s expression as I approached.
Watched her eyes widen.
Watched recognition hit her like a slap.
“You,” she whispered, voice cracking on a single syllable.
I pulled out the chair and sat down slowly.
Silence stretched—long and delicious.
“Hello, Beverly,” I said, calm as a clinic hallway. “Howard. Crystal. Andre.”
My lawyer slid a folder across the table.
“My client,” he said pleasantly, “has ten million dollars available for investment. But first, let’s discuss terms.”