I went home that night without the victory I’d imagined, but with something better: distance. Watching Grant’s carefully curated life collapse without my help was like finally seeing the magician’s trapdoor. The trick had never been that he was powerful. It was that I kept agreeing not to look too closely. Theo hadn’t exposed some hidden monster; he’d simply shone a light where Grant had always hoped no one would bother to check.

In the weeks after, I stopped rehearsing old arguments in my head. I stopped wondering what Priya had that I didn’t. I started reading my own contracts, asking follow-up questions, trusting the discomfort in my gut instead of apologizing for it. Grant lost a fiancée that night. I lost an illusion. And in its place, I gained something I hadn’t realized I’d traded away so cheaply: the certainty that my version of events was enough.