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

“Please welcome the author of The Glass Orchard…”

A silence opened.

The whole room leaned into it.

I stepped forward.

Celeste’s smile died so suddenly it looked cut from her face.

Graham’s hand slipped from her chair.

My heel touched the first step to the stage.

And behind me, Celeste’s champagne glass shattered beneath my stolen seat.

PART 2

The sound of breaking continue reading …