Page 102 of Glass Spinner

Kathleen stood, colour drained from her face. “Mom?—”

“We’ll talk about it later, Kathleen,” Rhonda said firmly. “Not here. Now it’s time your father and I went home. We’ll say our goodbyes to our hosts and be off.”

As soon as they moved off, Marise hurried to Kathleen side. “I heard what she said,” she whispered.

Kathleen looked at her accusingly. “What did you say to her to make her such a bitch,” she hissed. “I thought you were supposed to flatter her. Get her to ask you out again. Instead, she outed me to my parents.”

Marise opened her mouth to placate her when the shit really hit the fan.

Ted’s voice broke through the tension. “Kathleen! There you are. I finally found you!”

He strode across the floor with the energy of someone who had arrived late. Hair rumpled, collar slightly askew, he carried a rolled-up program in one hand and an open beer in the other.

“I wanted to say congrats.”

Kathleen turned, and offered a forced smile. “Thanks, Ted. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“I changed my mind. I wanted to celebrate with you.” He glanced around at Marise and his eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing here, Cass?”

Kathleen blinked at him. “Who?”

“Cass. The girl I told you about. From the movies.”

Kathleen stared at her “She’s... she’s yourCass?”

Ted laughed, confused. “Yeah. Why are you dressed like that, Cass?”

Marise desperately tried to think of something to minimise the damage as Ted blundered on. “How did you get an invite?” he asked, brows drawn. “What the hell is going on?”

Marise opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Kathleen was already turning to her, voice low and shaking. “I know her as Veronica, Ted. She played us both as fools.” She looked Marise in the eye. “Who are you?”

Marise hesitated for a second, but it was enough.

Kathleen’s face went cold. Her hand came up—not to strike her, but to push her toward the terrace doors. “Outside. Now.”

Marise followed, silent, the air thick with judgment as they passed through the doors.

The terrace, cooler than before, did nothing to temper the heat in Kathleen’s voice when she finally spoke. “I let you into my life,” she said, “I let you meet my parents. I brought you here. And all this time, you were playing some other part with Ted.”

“It wasn’t—” Marise started.

“No.” Kathleen snapped. “Don’t. Don’t lie to me now. Not when it’s all falling apart anyway.”

“It was part of the job.”

Kathleen’s eyes blazed. “Which job? The one where you pretended to care about me, or the one where you dressed up and made friends with my assistant to see what you could steal?”

Marise swallowed. “Kathleen, please?—”

“No,” she said, voice raw. “I don’t even know your real name, do I?”

Marise remained silent.

Kathleen stepped back, as if staying too close would contaminate her. “Get out of my life.”

The words landed like lead.