Camilla stumbled back a step, like the ground had shifted under her feet. The color drained from her face. For a second, she looked like she'd seen something that shouldn't exist.
All it took was one quiet sentence from me. Soft. Precise. And she unraveled.
She stood frozen, eyes darting, breath uneven. I could almost feel the panic rolling off her, sharp and sour in the air. After a few seconds, she forced herself to speak.
"Ms. Ashbourne," she said, trying to sound calm. Failing. "What kind of joke is this? Why would I withdraw from the competition?"
She raised her voice on purpose.
Just loud enough.
People nearby turned their heads. Whispers spread. Eyes locked onto me. Her words twisted the moment, made it look like I had cornered her. Like I was trying to push her out.
The mood flipped fast.
Murmurs turned into accusations. Her supporters started shouting. Insults flew my way like stones. The space between us grew tense, crowded with noise and judgment.
