The grand venue hall fell into an expectant hush. The lights dimmed gradually, casting the room in a dramatic twilight as the large canvas screen above the stage flickered to black. Seconds ticked by, the silence stretching thin. Nothing happened.
Guests began exchanging uneasy glances, their hushed whispers growing louder as confusion settled over the crowd. Then, without warning, the speakers crackled to life—harsh and jarring—before playing a loud, distorted recording.
And just like that, Anna's world narrowed to a single point.
Everything else faded into obscurity. She could no longer hear the murmuring voices or see the sea of faces around her. All that existed in her consciousness was Marienne—frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights. It felt like something out of a movie, where time slowed to a crawl so she could fully absorb one crystal-clear image: Marienne's very public, and very humiliating, downfall.
