Chapter 4

A woman in a cream-colored suit stepped into the service pantry.

She glanced to her left.

Then to her right.

She opened her handbag.

Pinched something between two fingers...

and sprinkled it over the entrée prepared for Table Four.

Just a little.

Quick.

Practiced.

She dropped the empty packet into the trash.

Smoothed her hair.

And walked out.

The ballroom erupted.

"That's AI!"

Bree's voice cracked.

"Anyone can fake videos now! You seriously can't tell?"

"The angle's all wrong—"

"I never even touched that plate!"

I didn't look at her.

I simply lifted the tablet.

"Keep playing."

The footage rewound.