Chapter 6

I didn't stop her. I only said, "Go ahead. I'll have security film it and send the video to the Hall partner group. I even have the title ready. Mr. Hall brings a student to an investor's office to bow for money."

Joanna stalled halfway, unable to go down or stand up.

Nathan steadied her, and for the first time, he looked genuinely embarrassed.

He asked, "Vivian Young, do you have to push somebody this far?"

I closed the folder on the table. "I pushed her? When she was standing on that stage last night, did it bother you that she pushed me off it?"

His breath caught.

I stood up and picked up my coat.

"This meeting is over. Show Mr. Hall and Ms. Reed out. From now on, nobody enters Young Enterprises without an appointment."

Nathan caught my wrist.

This time, he used his strength.

Security in the room moved forward at once.

I looked at his hand. "Let go."

He stared at me with red in his eyes.

"You can't stop the Westside Project. Name whatever compensation you want and I'll give it. We can hold the wedding again, and I'll explain last night publicly."

I grabbed the glass off the table and smashed it at his feet.

Glass sprayed across the floor.

He let go without thinking.

I looked up at him. "Hold it again? You think an engagement is a sample tray. Somebody takes a bite and you swap in a fresh plate."

The conference room was frighteningly quiet.

I walked to the door and stopped.

I said, "Nathan, the Hall Family gets the full list of costs before the day is out. Pay it. If you can't, sell something. Don't perform for me. I don't take scrap."

Joanna was crying behind me as I left the conference room.

That time, Nathan didn't rush to comfort her.

Good.

Money was more honest than any holiday.

The moment it stopped, devotion learned how to feel pain.

At noon, Joanna posted for the first time.

The photo showed her from behind, in that white dress, standing on the stage.

The caption was short.

Joanna: [I only wanted to feel like somebody's family for one holiday. I'm sorry. I guess I don't deserve it.]

Half an hour later, Nathan liked it.

An hour later, a few media accounts friendly to Hall Corporation started sharing it.

[Sponsored girl caught in a rich family's engagement scandal. How did kindness become a crime?]

[Orphan humiliated in public on Thanksgiving night. Is the heiress' outburst really about control?]

[Mr. Hall has funded students in need for years, and his fiancée misread all of it.]

They really did know how to write a headline.

Anyone reading it would think I had strung Joanna up and beaten her in the town square.

The comments filled up fast.

[Rich people are terrifying. She can't even make room for one orphan.]

[Mr. Hall only wanted to show her some kindness. Did his fiancée have to go that far?]

[The engagement party was the wrong place for it, but hitting people and wrecking the room in public is trash behavior.]

[Poor Joanna, getting torn apart like that on a holiday.]

My assistant came in with the tablet and didn't look happy. "Ms. Young, this is spreading fast. Hall Corporation must have paid for the push."

I was in my office, opening the favor boxes that had never been handed out the night before.

Inside were a pumpkin pie, a small gold leaf charm, and a thank-you card printed with my name and Nathan's.

I pulled the card out, tore off his half, and dropped it in the trash.

I asked, "How many followers does Joanna have?"

My assistant answered right away. "A little over twenty thousand before, and more than a hundred thousand now. She has posted about being sponsored for years. She builds an image well."

I opened Joanna's page.

Her photos were clean, and her captions were gentle. Studying, working part-time, being sponsored, thanking the world. Every post pushed the same three words. Trying to survive.

It was pretty.

It was the kind of pretty that got built to be looked at.

I scrolled down and found one from three years earlier.

Joanne: [Nathan sent me a pie today. It turns out a kid with no home can hold a holiday for a little while.]

Hardly anyone had commented at the time. Her new followers had dug it up, and now it was full of sympathy.

My eyes stopped on that line about a kid with no home.

I asked, "Has Nathan Hall ever checked the record on her parents?"

My assistant shook her head.

"From what we can see, Mr. Hall only kept her financial aid application from the year she enrolled. Joanna was in the first group the Hall Foundation funded, and once he took it over personally, the review got loose."

I laughed under my breath. "He took it over personally. No wonder he took it all the way onto an engagement stage."

My assistant didn't touch that one.

I handed the tablet back to her.

I ordered. "Run Joanna. School records, public records, every grant and fund she has applied for. Nothing clever. Use the normal verification channels and take whatever comes back."

My assistant agreed.

There was a knock at the door.

My secretary came in and said Hannah Hall was here.

I raised an eyebrow.

Hannah was in her seventies, her health had never been good, and she rarely went out. She and Nathan were close, so she would come eventually once Hall Corporation was in trouble. I didn't expect it that fast.

When she came into the office, she had only her caregiver with her.

She wore a dark jacket, and her hair was neat. She looked tired, but she had none of the noise Grace carried around.

I stood up. "Mrs. Hall."

She looked at me, and there was a lot behind it. "Vivian, I'm not here to push you back into the engagement."

I had my secretary bring coffee.

Once Hannah sat down, she took a red velvet box out of her bag and pushed it across to me.

"I meant to give you this last night. I didn't get the chance, so it should come back to you now."

I opened it and looked.

Inside was an old silver bracelet with worn engraving.

Hannah had worn it when she was young. Grace had once mentioned that it would be passed to me on the day of the engagement.

I didn't take it. "You should keep it."

Hannah gave a tired smile. "You think it's dirty. I can't argue with that."

She said it very quietly.

I held her eyes.

She was far clearer than anyone in that family had been the night before, clear enough that swearing at her would have been hard.