Chapter 1 - The Hand That Stopped the Slap
The slap never landed.
I caught Victoria Langford's wrist six inches from an old woman's face, and somebody in the ballroom shouted, "Throw that waitress out!"
Three hundred guests turned toward us. The string quartet stopped halfway through a song. Victoria's diamond bracelet dug into my palm as she tried to pull free.
"Let go of me," she said through perfect white teeth.
"Then step away from her."
The woman behind me sat in a wheelchair, one hand pressed against her chest. She wore a simple midnight-blue dress. Her gray hair had come loose at the temples, and the wheels of her chair were inches from a marble step.
"You have no idea who I am," Victoria whispered.
I knew exactly who she was. Her name was printed across the gala invitations, above the words CHAIR OF THE BRIDGELINE BENEFIT. Mine was Emma Carter. I was twenty-four, rented a room over a laundromat, and had twelve dollars in my purse until Friday.
Victoria leaned closer. "I can make sure you never work in this city again."
My fingers shook. My dad was in a hospital bed with a broken leg and mounting bills. My little sister, Sophie, had a tuition deadline in five days. I needed this catering shift badly enough to ignore the blisters on both heels.
But the old woman had flinched before Victoria even raised her hand. She had known what was coming.
"You can fire me," I said. "You can't hit her."
A security guard moved toward my shoulder. I released Victoria's wrist, but I stayed between her and the wheelchair.
"She attacked me!" Victoria announced, smoothing her sleeve. "Someone call the police."
"That's a good idea," a man said from the back of the room.
The crowd divided around a tall man in a dark suit. I recognized him from the news: Vincent Moretti, the billionaire whose company funded half the city's medical transportation charities.
Victoria hurried toward him with an injured smile. "Vincent, thank goodness. This girl—"
He walked past her, knelt beside the wheelchair, and took the old woman's hand.
"Mom," he said softly. "Are you hurt?"
Victoria went still. Vincent looked up at me. "What is your name?"
"Emma Carter."
"I'll remember that," he said.
May you like
His mother stared at my badge. "Carter? Is your father Daniel Carter?"
My stomach dropped. Nobody in that room should have known my father's name.
