I reached into my purse and set the small recorder on the table in front of me. The red light blinked steadily.
A few guests leaned forward instinctively, curious.
Michael’s face drained of color. Sabrina’s smile froze, her fingers tightening around her glass.
I pressed play.
Michael’s voice filled the room, unmistakable, intimate in a way a public audience was never meant to hear.
“After I get that money from my mother, everything changes. We won’t have to hide anymore.”
A sharp intake of breath swept through the nearest tables. Someone whispered, “Oh my God.”
Michael stood abruptly, chair scraping. “Mom, stop. This is… this is not what it sounds like.”
I didn’t look away from him. “Then what is it, Michael?”
His mouth opened. Closed. He looked around, suddenly aware of how many eyes were on him.
I played the next clip.
“She always caves. She always wants to please me. As soon as she signs this afternoon, we’re free. No strings.”
The sound of it, so casual, so entitled, landed like a slap across the ballroom.
A few guests looked away as if embarrassed to witness it. Others stared openly, stunned.
