Chapter Twenty-One
Piper
By six that morning, the internet had decided Piper Quinn deserved to keep her business by forty-three percent.
The number appeared beside her name on the ceremony screen while forty-nine clients watched strangers vote on whether their trust had been misplaced.
Piper had survived public humiliation, a live proposal, a forged authorization video, and discovering that her first real kiss with Emmett had been titled like an episode.
This felt worse.
The screen did not only display her name.
It displayed theirs.
LILY ARDEN: STAY WITH QUINN EVENTS, 52%
MARA DELANEY: LEAVE QUINN EVENTS, 61%
SOUTH RIDGE FOUNDATION: TRUST PIPER, 38%
HARRIS CORPORATE RETREAT: BLAME PIPER, 74%
Private clients had become public categories.
Their fear had become an audience feature.
Piper crossed the ceremony platform and pulled the power cable from the screen.
The image remained.
Sasha stared at the guest-recognition towers near the entrance. “Cellular transmission. The display has its own battery.”
“Turn it off,” Piper said.
An investigator opened the base of the nearest tower. “Removing power may erase active connection logs.”
Piper looked at him.
He corrected himself quickly.
“We can block the signal without shutting down the unit.”
“Do that.”
The investigator placed a shielded evidence cover over the first tower. Another officer moved toward the second.
The voting totals froze.
Piper’s survival remained at forty-three percent.
No one in the room spoke.
She looked toward the clients.
Some watched her.
Others watched their own names.
Mr. Arden stood beside Lily with both arms folded. Mara Delaney pressed one hand against her mouth. Several vendors whispered near the aisle while Daniel spoke urgently into a clean phone provided by law enforcement.
Emmett moved beside Piper.
Not in front of her.
Never in front unless she asked.
“What do you need?” he said quietly.
The answer came immediately.
“The names removed.”
“Then that happens first.”
Daniel ended the call. “The platform says the poll was created by an independent viewer account.”
Piper laughed once.
The sound was not pleasant.
“An independent viewer account knew who attended a confidential meeting that began forty minutes ago.”
“They are investigating.”
“They own part of Vantage.”
“Yes.”
“Then they are delaying.”
“Yes.”
Piper looked toward the frozen screen.
“Can we force them to remove it?”
“We are seeking an emergency takedown.”
“How long?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Hours.”
The room reacted.
Mara Delaney stood. “My name is already online?”
“Yes,” Daniel said.
“Along with the vote?”
“Yes.”
“Can people access my files?”
“Not through the poll.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Daniel’s expression remained careful. “We do not know what Vantage currently possesses.”
Fear moved through the room again.
Piper felt every person turn toward her.
She had invited them there.
She had promised information.
Now a company had used the meeting itself to prove no place was safe.
“I am sorry,” Piper said.
Mr. Something set in Arden’s face. “That does not remove the names.”
“No.”
“You brought us into a building they controlled.”
“I believed the equipment had been disconnected.”
“You believed wrong.”
Emmett shifted beside her.
Piper touched the back of his hand without looking at him.
Stay.
He stayed.
Mr. Arden continued. “My daughter’s private wedding concerns are now attached to an online vote because your former boyfriend had access to your files.”
“Yes.”
“You expect us to trust you after that?”
“No.”
The answer stopped him.
Piper looked at every person in the room.
“I expect you to make the choice that protects you. Not me. If that means leaving Quinn Events, I will provide every file I still control, cooperate with new planners, and return every dollar I can.”
“Every dollar you can?” Mara asked.
Piper swallowed.
“I cannot promise immediate full refunds to everyone without selling assets or arranging financing.”
The admission scraped against every instinct she had.
A planner always had the answer.
A planner never told a room that the budget might fail.
Owen would have called the honesty unprofessional.
Emmett’s fingers touched hers.
Not holding yet.
Available.
Piper turned her palm upward.
He took her hand.
“I will provide a written refund plan today,” she continued. “No one will be required to sign confidentiality language to receive money or records. No one will be asked to appear at the showcase. No one will be used to repair my reputation.”
Lily Arden stepped away from her father.
“What if we want to appear?”
Piper looked at her.
“Then we discuss exactly what that means before cameras enter the room.”
“What if we want to tell people the vote is wrong?”
“You do not owe me that.”
“That was not my question.”
The correction sounded familiar.
Emmett’s mouth moved beside Piper.
She ignored him.
Lily continued. “Vantage asked me to wear my wedding dress and lie about you. I want to say that publicly.”
Her father turned toward her. “Lily.”
“No. They used private information from my wedding to write a role for me. I am not letting them keep the only version people hear.”
Piper felt the words settle across the room.
A caterer near the aisle raised her hand.
“They offered me five thousand dollars to say Quinn Events mishandled vendor payments.”
A hotel representative spoke next.
“They asked me to confirm you demanded hidden cameras for promotional use.”
“That was false,” Piper said.
“I know.”
Another client stood.
Then another.
Within minutes, eleven people had received direct offers from Vantage or companies connected to it.
Money for accusations.
Privacy in exchange for participation.
A promise that their files would disappear if they helped make Piper’s story more valuable.
Daniel wrote every statement on paper while investigators collected copies of messages from clean devices.
Piper looked at the frozen poll.
The audience had not been asked to judge her business.
They had been directed.
“Where did the votes come from?” she asked.
Sasha looked toward the covered towers. “The configuration file may have campaign data.”
“Can we read it without changing evidence?”
“The investigators can create a forensic copy.”
“How long?”
The lead investigator answered. “Twenty minutes for the local storage. Longer if the data is encrypted.”
“Do it.”
Piper stepped down from the platform.
Her knees felt unsteady.
Emmett noticed.
He did not ask whether she was fine.
He guided her toward a chair and waited until she sat.
“That was almost controlling,” she said.
“You were moving toward the floor.”
“I might have wanted to sit there.”
“Poor venue choice.”
Her mouth moved.
Good.
She needed one normal thing.
Emmett crouched in front of her.
His restored Ridgeview status had arrived less than two hours earlier. The professional offer rested folded inside his coat pocket. He had every reason to be somewhere else, protecting the career Vantage had already tried to take from him.
He looked at Piper as if remaining beside her was not a sacrifice.
That frightened her more than sacrifice would have.
“You should go home before practice,” she said.
“I am not attending practice today.”
“Your suspension ended.”
“The team is doing video review. Coach excused me for the client meeting.”
“You asked?”
“Yes.”
“You did not decide they would understand afterward?”
“No.”
Piper touched his face.
“More progress.”
“Painful.”
“What do you need?”
Emmett glanced toward the room.
“To know you are not going to sign Vantage’s agreement because the poll scares the clients.”
Piper lowered her hand.
“I am considering every option.”
“That was not an answer.”
“No.”
“Do you want to sign?”
“No.”
“Then do not turn fear into consent.”
The sentence struck cleanly.
Piper looked toward Lily, who was showing an investigator the message Vantage had sent her.
“They could release everything.”
“Yes.”
“People could be hurt.”
“Yes.”
“You sound calm.”
“I am not.”
“What are you?”
Emmett looked at her.
“Trying to trust you with the decision while making sure you remember it belongs to you too.”
Piper’s throat tightened.
Owen had predicted she would protect everyone except herself.
Vantage had built an agreement around the same certainty.
Emmett did not tell her to choose herself instead.
He reminded her she was one of the people affected.
“That was emotionally intelligent,” she said.
“I dislike the tone of your surprise.”
“It keeps you humble.”
“I was doing well without help.”
Piper looked toward his coat pocket.
“The contract.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to accept it?”
“If the review is clean.”
A complicated feeling moved through her.
Pride first.
Fear second.
Six hours was not far.
Six hours was far when events ended after midnight, when games started early, when weather closed roads, and when two people had known each other for one summer and loved each other for less than a day.
Emmett saw the calculation.
“You are planning travel routes,” he said.
“Possibly.”
“You have the face.”
“I do not have one.”
“You narrow your eyes.”
“Maren has been discussing me.”
“She provided useful documentation.”
Piper leaned closer.
“Take the contract.”
“I have not asked you to decide.”
“I am telling you what I want.”
His expression changed.
“I want you to take the opportunity,” she continued. “I want you to play. I want to complain about the drive and create a calendar with unreasonable precision.”
“A shared calendar?”
“Do not make it intimate.”
“Too late.”
She smiled.
Emmett’s gaze moved to her mouth.
Piper felt the shift immediately.
“No cameras,” she whispered.
“We do not know that.”
“Exactly.”
He looked toward the ceiling.
“I am beginning to hate lighting fixtures.”
“I have always had concerns.”
They did not kiss.
The choice felt more intimate than kissing would have.
Across the room, an investigator called Sasha toward the guest tower.
She returned five minutes later holding a printed report.
“The vote is fake.”
Every conversation stopped.
Piper stood.
“How fake?” Daniel asked.
Sasha placed the report on the stage.