Her office hadn’t changed, but everything else had.

Celeste opened a folder.

“You’ve done more than anyone expected.”

“I know.”

One eyebrow lifted before she slid a check across the desk.

$100,000.

For one brief moment, I pictured Owen’s college tuition, a dependable car, and six months of rent.

“What do you want me to sign?” I asked.

“A trustee resignation. You were compensated fairly, Sadie. Let’s not rewrite survival as romance.”

I pushed the check back.

Celeste’s smile narrowed.

“Women like you survive by knowing when to step aside.”

“No,” I said as I stood. “Women like me survive by remembering every person who thought we would disappear.”

Her smile disappeared.

“Be careful.”

“I was careful for three years,” I said. “Now I’m awake.”

The donor luncheon was supposed to restore Celeste’s reputation.

Instead, it became my moment.

She stood at the podium in a cream suit while Dean sweated near the front. Jonah and Owen sat in the back. When I stood up, Jonah started to rise too.

I shook my head.

This part belonged to me.

Celeste smiled tightly as I approached carrying the black box.

“Sadie, dear, this isn’t the moment.”

“That’s what you counted on,” I said. “You counted on me never knowing when to speak.”

Dean snapped, “Sit down.”

“No.”

I placed the black box on the podium.

“You paid me $2,000 a month to marry Jonah in prison,” I said. “That’s true.”

Whispers spread through the room.

“But you didn’t choose me because I was loyal. You chose me because I had nothing.”

I held up her notebook.

“No active parents. Minor brother dependent. Behind on rent. Likely compliant.”

Celeste reached toward it.

“That’s private.”

“No,” I said. “That’s proof. You used a trust, a charity, and me to keep power you were never supposed to have. You wanted Jonah to take the fall while you and Dean schemed.”

Dean stood.

“She’s lying.”

I turned toward him.