So this was her idea of "helping" me—dragging me in front of cameras to make herself look better by comparison?
What she didn't know was that the show had been created by my husband. For me.
And I was the undisclosed international top-tier judge they hadn't yet revealed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Morris Dickerson pulling up to the curb.
I brushed off the spots on my clothes where they'd touched me and said flatly, "No, thank you."
"And unless there's something else—let's not see each other again."
As I turned to leave, Vera grabbed my arm, her voice laced with curiosity. "Mildred, where do you live? I'll have my husband drive you."
I shook my head and walked straight to Morris's car.
Vera watched me go, something calculating flickering behind her eyes. She held Wyatt back as he moved to follow. "Honey, I think Mildred's married."
"Look—her husband came to pick her up."
"He seems a bit older, but I'm sure he treats her well enough?"
For the first time, Wyatt pried her hand off his arm and strode to the car in long, urgent steps. He seized the door before Morris could close it.