Like tiny blades.
Others joined her.
More followed.
That was power’s ugliest feature.
Cruelty seldom needed explicit orders.
Power only had to signal which cruelty was permitted.
Camden observed me from the podium, waiting for the reaction that would make his allegations appear justified.
He expected tears.
I recognized the expectation beneath his grave expression.
He wanted a manageable outburst.
An allegedly hysterical wife.
An unstable worker.
A jealous woman mixing marital grievances with work.
For months he’d cultivated that image.
Only then did I see it: the long sequence of seemingly disconnected slights had been preparing everyone for this moment.
Meetings I wasn’t invited to.
Reports that had been changed.
Emails that mysteriously excluded me.
The complaints about my “emotional investment” in community projects.
Sloane telling executives that I was having difficulty adjusting to Camden’s increasing responsibilities.
Camden asking whether I had considered “taking some time away.”
