The plan was audacious and simple. It asked me to be visible in a very mechanical way: to be the woman who shepherded donor experience. That visibility would insulate me further; it would make the tribunal of gossip less persuasive. Yet it also meant more exposure. I felt the familiar thrill of agency and the old sliver of dread—agency often comes with a price.
“I can do that,” I said. “I’ll make the week mean something.”
Conley nodded. “I’ll allocate whatever you need. And I will speak to the board about the legal strategy. We will use our advantages.”
Angel reached for my hand across the low table, her touch warm and steady. “We’re with you,” she said. Her voice had the plain clarity of someone who had found reasons to belong again. I felt a surge of gratitude toward her—this woman ha
