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Mark looked at her, mouth opening, then closing.
Mark turned toward me, rage and disbelief colliding. “You planned this.”
“No,” I said. “You did. I just stopped covering for you.”
Mark’s face collapsed inward, like a structure losing its supports.
Serena looked at me then, really looked at me. “He told me you were bitter,” she said softly. “That you wanted to see him fail.”
For a long moment, we stood there, two women who had never been enemies until he needed us to be.
The dinner dissolved shortly after. People made excuses. Conversations ended mid-sentence. Mark didn’t follow her. He stayed seated, staring at the table as if the answers might be written into the grain.
“You think this makes you powerful,” he muttered as I passed him.
I paused. “No,” I said. “It makes me free.”
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