Chapter 110

• I sat at the long table elevated on the dais, a line of microphones pointed at me like a row of loaded guns. Facing the press had never unsettled me until now. Everything about the scene was oddly familiar: the restless sea of reporters crammed into the hall, the charged hum of anticipation thickening the air. Yet one element felt wildly out of place the woman beside me.
• Zinnia.
• I shifted in my seat, slowly studying the carefully painted smile on her red lips, the cleavage screaming for attention, and the glittering diamond ring that screamed even louder. I hadn’t bought that ring. It was either a self-indulgent purchase or something gifted by my father to lend credence to the farce we were performing.