She Was Sitting In My Front-Row Seat Holding My Novel — Smiling Like She Had Stolen My Life

cards trembled faintly in one hand, not with nerves but anticipation.

She knew.

Only four people in that ballroom knew.

I was one of them.

Graham was not.

Celeste lifted the book higher as the photographers shifted toward the stage.

She angled the cover outward.

She wanted to be seen holding taste.

She wanted to look close to genius.

Graham bent toward her continue reading …