But the light swung past me.
And locked onto Anna Pruitt.
She gasped, covering her mouth with delicate hands, eyes wide with feigned shock before a shy, victorious smile bloomed on her face.
Jonathan descended the stage stairs, step by deliberate step, walking toward her.
He stopped in front of Anna and produced a velvet box.
Flipped it open.
A three-carat diamond fractured the stage lights into a blinding prism.
"Anna," Jonathan's voice boomed through the speakers, "in just these few months, you have breathed new life into this company. You gave us direction when we were lost."
"I hope this ring symbolizes the solid, intimate partnership we are building."
He plucked the ring from the velvet.
Anna extended her hand, allowing him to slide the diamond onto her finger.
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Anna threw herself into Jonathan's arms, burying her face in his neck.
The massive LED screen behind them displayed a cinematic close-up of the ring and their embrace.
Then, without warning, the director cut the feed.
The screen filled with my face.
Pale. Stiff. Shattered.
A collective gasp rippled through the room as the audience saw the raw devastation broadcast ten feet high.