Daniel stepped up beside me, his tone steady and unmistakably firm.
“Mom,” he said. “That wasn’t funny.”
Her smile flickered. “Oh, don’t be so sensitive. Everyone enjoyed it.”
I looked at Daniel, then back at her.
My voice stayed calm—but I made sure it reached the room.
“You wanted me to fail,” I said. “That’s why you stopped the music.”
A subtle wave moved through the crowd—soft gasps, chairs shifting, people suddenly realizing they’d been part of something cruel.
Veronica’s eyes hardened. “I just wanted to see if you were real.”
I nodded slowly. “Now you know,” I replied.
I handed the microphone back to the DJ—not to her.
Then I walked toward my parents’ table and saw my mother wiping tears from her eyes—not from sadness, but pride.
She knew what it had cost me to keep that part of my life hidden.
And she knew what it meant that I chose to use it anyway.
Daniel squeezed my hand.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I should have stopped her.”
I shook my head gently. “You are stopping her,” I said.
Veronica opened her mouth to speak again, but Daniel cut in.
