I watched a droplet of sweat slide down the side of Father’s face, disappearing into his collar.

“Richard,” Mr. Harrison said, his voice dropping an octave. “What is that?”

Father stuffed the envelope into the inner pocket of his blazer without looking at it.

“It is a minor business matter,” Father said, his voice stiff. “A disgruntled former employee.”

“You are lying,” I said.

My voice sounded small in the open air, but everyone heard it.

Chloe looked between me and Father, her eyes wide and wet with tears.

“Maya, please,” Mother whispered, reaching out a manicured hand toward me. “Not here. Not in front of everyone.”

“Where else, Mother?” I asked. “In the dark? Where you kept me for ten years?”

I stepped closer to the edge of the pool, the blue water reflecting the late afternoon sun across my scarred arms.

The guests stood like statues, their plates of untouched catering clutching in their hands.

“The envelope isn’t about his business,” I said to the crowd. “It is about me.”

Father took a step toward me, his fists clenching at his sides.