“I made you a promise,” Bailey said. “I don’t break my promises.”
Nicholas took her hand and turned it over, studying her rough palms, the calluses, the faint scars from broken glass.
“Your hands,” he said quietly. “I remembered your hands.”
When Ariel had shaken his hand the day before, something had felt wrong. Her hands had been soft and manicured. But Bailey’s hands told the truth.
“These hands saved my life,” he said.
Bailey swallowed hard. “I’ve always hated my hands.”
“They’re beautiful,” he said. “They tell your whole story.”
She explained about Ariel, about how her cousin had driven away that night and was now claiming the rescue.
Nicholas’s expression darkened.
“Come with me,” he said.
“To where?”
“To the press conference.”
Bailey hesitated, but he insisted. She didn’t need fancy clothes or preparation. She just needed the truth.
Outside, three black SUVs appeared. Nicholas introduced Bailey to his security team as the woman who had actually saved his life.
At Phil Enterprises, Javon confirmed they already had traffic camera footage, the 911 recording, and paramedic reports. They had enough evidence to expose the lie.
The press conference began at 9:00 sharp.
Ariel stood near the stage in a polished navy dress, Mercy beside her glowing with pride. Reporters filled the lobby. Cameras flashed.
Nicholas stepped to the podium.
He thanked everyone for coming and spoke about the crash. Then he said that yesterday a woman named Ariel Hartley had claimed to be his rescuer.
Ariel smiled nervously.
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