Father’s face turned from pale to a deep, dark red.

“That is enough of this nonsense,” he barked, his voice cracking with authority.

He looked at two of his business associates standing near the bar.

“She is having an episode. Someone help me get her inside.”

Nobody moved.

The silence of two hundred people was heavier than the humid summer air.

“The space heater in the corner of the playroom shorted out,” I continued.

“The sparks hit the sheer curtains first.”

I pointed to the thick, shiny ridge of skin near my collarbone.

“The fire spread in less than three minutes.”

“I still remember the smell of the burning wool rug.”

“It smelled like chemical smoke and melting plastic.”

Chloe shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing against her bare shoulders.

“No,” she said. “We had a nanny. Nora.”

“Nora was downstairs in the laundry room with the door closed,” I said.

“She did not hear the smoke alarm until it was too late.”

“By the time she realized what was happening, the stairs were blocked by thick black smoke.”