Something cold and precise settled in my chest.

I opened my clutch.

Vivian’s face lit up for half a second—greedy people always recognize the sound of a zipper near money. I pulled out the last check, the one she had begged me to bring.

Twenty thousand dollars.

Her final payment.

I held it up.

Vivian whispered, “Don’t be stupid.”

I tore it once.

Her mouth parted.

I tore it again. And again. And again. Tiny white fragments drifted onto the polished floor like dead confetti.

I smiled.

“Have fun paying the suppliers,” I said, “because the venue contract is in my name.”…

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