My brother uninvited me from his New Year’s party. “My fiancée is a powerful Congresswoman. You’re just a gift shop worker,” he sneered. A week later, he called: “My fiancée is touring your museum
The silence in the rotunda stretched so thin I could hear the faint, rhythmic hum of the building’s climate control. Victoria didn’t move. Her gaze stayed anchored to the silver-and-blue security badge clipped to my lapel, her eyes tracking the bold, black letters stamped beneath my name: EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR. “Sarah Mitchell?” she repeated, her voice…