Brittany’s expression was not remorse — it was panic, because people were watching. “I was trying to get one family picture. She was leaving. She was still in the frame.”
“You pulled her.”
“I barely touched her.”
Then she said the thing that landed harder than the fall itself: “She doesn’t know her place.”
Noah went completely still. He helped me sit up, then carefully to my feet, keeping one hand near my elbow until I was steady.
“I know her place,” he said, looking straight at her. “It’s beside me.”
For the first time all day, Brittany looked uncertain. Then the uncertainty curdled into anger, and she turned toward the staff. “Security.” Nobody moved. Her voice sharpened. “Security, I want her removed.”