Rebekkah's POV.
The red light on the main camera started blinking, a tiny glowing eye that felt like a sniper’s dot aimed right at my forehead. The heat from the stage lamps was direct and hot, making the sweat prickle at the back of my neck. I could hear the sea of reporters breathing, their notebooks open, their cameras ready to capture every flinch.
Michael stepped up to the microphone first. He looked perfect. His hair was back, his suit was crisp, and he had that billion-dollar smile that made people trust him with their life savings. He reached out and squeezed my shoulder. His grip was tight, his fingers digging into the bone through my blazer. It was a warning. He wanted me to play the part.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Michael said, his voice booming throug
