“To Chloe! To the future!”
Noah tugged my sleeve. “Dad, can I have some water?”
I knelt and straightened his jacket. “Of course.”
He carried the glass carefully with both hands. But as photographers crowded the stage, someone bumped into him. He stumbled forward.
Water splashed across Chloe’s silk gown.
The music faltered. The room froze.
Chloe looked down at the spreading stain, then at my son. Her smile vanished.
“What did you just do?” she snapped.
“I’m sorry,” Noah whispered.
Before I could react, her hand struck his face.
The sound cracked through the ballroom.
Noah’s small body crumpled to the floor, motionless.
My heart stopped.
I dropped to my knees. “Noah!”
My mother didn’t rush forward. She curled her lip.
“Clumsy little freeloader,” she hissed. “Take him and leave.”
I lifted my son, his body limp in my arms. I looked at my parents and my sister one last time.
“Apologize,” I said quietly.
My father’s face hardened. “Your sister saved this company. You contribute nothing.”
Chloe dabbed at her dress like my child was an inconvenience.
“Get them out of here.”
And then the emcee’s voice echoed through the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen… please welcome our chairman of the board…”