In the fourth row of the auditorium's velvet VIP section, Thomas and Victoria were on the court. They had requisitioned the seats for which they had bled, practically shouting to be heard over the low murmur of the sophisticated crowd.
“Oh, absolutely,” Victoria lied gently, adjusting her heavy pearl necklace and flashing a bright, fake smile to the family of the wealthy neurosurgeon seated beside her. “Our Haley is practically the guest of honor today. She’s quite the lifestyle influencer, you see. We had to leave our other daughter at home, unfortunately. She’s just a low-level assistant—very sweet, but she doesn’t really belong in a high-caliber room like this. She feels so intimidated.”
Thomas nodded proudly, puffing out his chest. He reached into his tailored breast pocket, his fingers tapping affectionately against a folded legal folder. It was the eviction notice. He planned to put it on my mattress as soon as they got back to the house.
“It’s about surrounding yourself with excellence,” Thomas boasted to the surgeon, his eyes darting hungrily around the room. “Actually, I own a logistics company that specializes in…”
Backstage, warning bells rang through the PA system, signaling the five-minute mark. The lights in the large hall began to dim slowly, bathing the audience in a quiet, expectant twilight.
Dean Bradley approached me, holding a heavy, leather-bound folder containing the show and my opening speech. He leaned forward, his expression turning intensely serious.
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