I scanned the room again. Industry peers. Competitors. Former clients. All there to witness Hudson Gable’s crowning achievement.
My mother finally spotted me and nudged my father, who looked up from his conversation. Our gazes met across the room. He didn’t smile or wave. Instead, he offered a single, deliberate nod. The closest thing to acknowledgment I’d likely receive.
For a moment, I wavered. Maybe I couldn’t do this. Maybe I was making a mistake. My mind drifted to the images it played on repeat when my self-control was lacking. Images of Mari, grinning and smiling as she flirted with me over a random hotel bar, a complete stranger. Mari glaring at me through the smoke as the wedding expo went up in flames. Mari propping her feet up on her desk in our shared office, now empty. Mari flushed as she stared up at me with those bright blue eyes that sparked life inside me.
I cut the thoughts off.
No. I had to do this. Even though everything logical in me told me it was a mistake.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Eleanor’s voice cut through the chatter as she took her place at the podium. “Thank you all for joining us for this momentous announcement.”
She launched into her prepared remarks about Modern Wedding’s legacy of innovation, its commitment to excellence, its finger on the pulse of the industry. I tuned her out, focusing instead on controlling my breathing, on keeping my hands steady as I reached into my pocket to touch the folded speech.
“...and what started as an innovative idea to decorate a high-profile wedding with constellation mapping turned into a conversation about an app that will revolutionize the planning process while maintaining the luxury experience our audience expects,” Eleanor was saying, building to her big finish. “A visionary approach from a true industry leader.”
Not my vision, I thought.Not my leadership.
“It is my great pleasure to introduce our new creative director and the innovative mind behind Modern Wedding’s digital future—Hudson Gable!”
The room erupted in applause. Flashbulbs popped from every angle. Someone let out an appreciative whistle. My mother dabbed atthe corner of her eye with a monogrammed handkerchief while my father straightened, chest expanding with pride.
I made my way to the podium on legs that felt disconnected from my body. Eleanor stepped aside with an encouraging smile, squeezing my forearm as we passed. The room gradually quieted, all eyes on me, all expecting the same thing: gracious acceptance, humble gratitude, excited promises about the future of wedding planning.
I unfolded my speech and placed it on the podium.
“Thank you, Mrs. Trolio, for that generous introduction.” My voice sounded steadier than I felt. “And thank you to everyone for being here today.”
I glanced down at my prepared words, then back at the expectant faces. With a deep breath, I read the words I’d written.
“A few days ago, I had planned to give a different speech. One about innovation and the future of wedding planning. But before I do that, I need to tell you a story. It’s not a happy one, I’m afraid. It’s about ambition, and fear, and the terrible choices we make when we value success over integrity.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Eleanor Trolio’s perfect smile faltered. In the front row, my father’s expression darkened, a storm gathering behind his eyes. Good.
“Several months ago, I met with Mrs. Trolio to discuss potentially doing a spread with Modern Wedding. I was eager to impress her. I wanted to prove that I was worthy of my parents’ name because the Gables are so highly revered in this industry. I desired to show that I could bring fresh ideas to the table.”
My mouth felt desert-dry, but I forced myself to continue.
“The problem was I didn’t have any fresh ideas. At least, not of my own.”
The murmurs grew louder. A photographer’s flash went off, capturing what I imagined was the exact moment my father realized what was happening. My mother’s hand tightened around her clutch.
“The digital platform concept that Mrs. Trolio mentioned—the one you’ve all received press materials about—isn’t mine. It never was.” I swallowed hard. “It belongs to Mari Landry, my former partner at the Kussikov-Martin wedding.”
More flashes. More murmurs. Eleanor Trolio had gone completely still at the side of the stage, her professional mask slipping to reveal genuine shock.
“Mari Landry is one of the most innovative minds in wedding planning today. She’s a partner in the number one wedding planner business in New York, Knot Your Average Wedding. She developed the concept for a digital platform that would make luxury planning easier for wedding planners, and also accessible to those who couldn’t fully afford what you all know are our outrageous prices.” That, at least, got a few chuckles from the crowd. “Ms. Landry spent years researching, designing, and refining her idea.” My voice caught. “And I stole it.”
The silence that followed was absolute, as if everyone in the room held their breath.
“I presented her concept as my own during my meetings with Modern Wedding. I expanded on her ideas in follow-up conversations. I allowed everyone, including Mrs. Trolio, to believe that I was the visionary behind this revolutionary platform.”
I reached into my jacket and pulled out the USB drive, holding it up so everyone could see.
“This contains all of Mari’s original work—her designs, her research, her concept development. Everything that proves she is the true innovator behind what you’ve been told is my idea.”
I turned to Eleanor Trolio, whose complexion now matched her white suit.
“Mrs. Trolio, I cannot accept the position of creative director. Not only because it would be built on a lie, but because there is someone far more qualified for the role.” I held the USB drive out to her. “Mari Landry deserves this opportunity. She deserves recognition for her work. And most importantly, she deserves an apology—from me, and from Modern Wedding for not verifying the originality of my supposed innovation.”
