"You paid me $2,000 a month to marry Jonah in prison," I said. "That's true."
The room erupted in whispers.
"Sit down."
"But you didn't choose me because I was loyal. You chose me because I had nothing."
I lifted her notebook.
"No active parents. Minor brother dependent. Behind on rent. Likely compliant."
Celeste reached for it. "That's private."
"No," I said. "That's proof. You used a trust, a charity, and me to keep power you were never supposed to have. You wanted Jonah to take the fall while you and Dean schemed."
Dean stood. "She's lying."
"That's private."
I turned to him. "You moved money under Jonah's name after he was already in custody. You let his $18,000 hide your $600,000."
A board member rose. "Dean, don't leave."
I looked back at Celeste.
"You thought I was poor enough to rent and tired enough to erase. You were wrong about both."
The board member stepped forward.
“Celeste, step away from the podium. Counsel, call an emergency vote to suspend her pending review and notify the attorney general’s charity division.”
"Dean, don't leave."
***
Months later, Dean faced charges, Celeste was gone from the foundation, and Jonah had completed restitution.
When Jonah found me reading scholarship applications, he paused in the doorway.
"You belong here," he said.
"I know."
"I should have trusted you."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
"I should have trusted you."
"I know."
"I'll never manage you again."
I looked up. "You don't get to promise that once. You prove it every day."
He nodded. "Then I will prove it every day."
Owen appeared in the doorway. "Dinner, or are we doing emotional accountability all night?"
For the first time in months, I laughed.
I didn't forgive Jonah all at once.
