“Happy birthday,” I said softly.
And then I turned back to Marcus.
“Yes.”
That one word changed everything.
Vanessa took a step forward. “Claire, please—don’t do this. We can fix it. I’ll pay for everything.”
I met her eyes.
“It’s not about the money.”
Security arrived minutes later. Quiet. Professional. Final.
Guests began to leave—slowly, awkwardly, like they were exiting a scene they didn’t want to be part of anymore.
Vanessa stood alone by the table, no champagne, no smile, no audience.
Just consequences.
As I walked toward the elevator with Daniel beside me, my phone buzzed.
A notification.
Vanessa had just deleted every story.
But it was too late.
Because Marcus had already sent me the clip.
And that video?
It didn’t just erase her smile.
It erased the version of her I thought I knew forever.
