The audience slowly began leaving.
My foundation staff surrounded me.
My public relations director was pale.
“Adrian, we need a statement.”
“Not now.”
“The press is already outside.”
“Let them wait.”
“The board is calling.”
“Let them call.”
“Sir—”
“Cancel everything.”
He stared at me.
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
For the first time in thirty years, I did not care about the market.
I did not care about the board.
I did not care about reputation.
I sat alone in the front row.
The auditorium emptied around me.
An hour later, Carter sat beside me.
I had not heard him approach.
He stared at the dark stage.
“Mom left.”
“I know.”
“She told the driver to take her home.”
I nodded.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Then Carter laughed bitterly.
“Last place.”
I looked at him.
“It was one competition.”
“It was the competition.”
“No.”
He finally faced me.
“You paid for everything.”
“I did.”
“The tutors.”
“Yes.”
“The private training center.”
“Yes.”
“The internship.”
