His face reddened.
Megan turned to him slowly.
“Marcus, did you know about all of this?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation cost him.
“Some of it,” he said.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“You knew enough to tell me she never helps anyone.”
“Because money isn’t everything.”
“Nobody said it was.”
Megan’s voice had become very calm.
Marcus hated calm when he couldn’t control it.
He jabbed a finger toward me.
“She planned this! She wanted everyone against me.”
“You called the vote,” Kylie said.
Marcus turned toward her as if she had slapped him.
Kylie wiped her cheeks.
“You did,” she repeated.
“You kept saying Claire thought she was better than us.
You said she never cared when people needed help.”
Marcus stared at her.
“And you agreed.”
“I know.”
Her voice cracked.
“I was wrong.”
That was the first apology of the night that sounded like it understood its own cost.
It didn’t repair anything, but it mattered.
Aunt Patricia followed.
“So was I.”
My uncle nodded.
Marcus laughed in disbelief.
“This is unbelievable.
One folder and suddenly everyone switches sides?”
My father finally looked at him.
“It’s not the folder.”
Marcus froze.
My father had barely spoken all evening.
“It’s what we did before she opened it,” he said.
My mother began crying quietly.
Marcus shook his head.
“Dad, don’t do this.”
“You asked us to choose,” my father replied.
“And I should have stopped you.”
Then he looked at me.
“I should have stopped it before you ever had to defend yourself.”
I swallowed.
That hurt more than Marcus’s speech had.
Because it was the sentence I had wanted before the applause.
Now it was true, but late.
“Yes,” I said.
“You should have.”
My father’s eyes dropped.
My mother whispered my name.
I stood.
Everyone watched me gather my bag.
