Everyone stood.
Trey looked toward Sienna.
Toward his followers.
Toward the car keys held by Commissioner Kovac.
Nyla bent over the table.
For one moment the room disappeared.
No cameras.
No Trey.
No crowd.
She saw Walter.
Sawdust on his sleeves.
Standing behind her in his old shop.
Don’t chase the nine, baby girl.
Nyla breathed.
Find it.
She struck.
Nine ball.
Corner pocket.
Gone.
Silence.
Then the room exploded.
Nyla closed her eyes.
“Walter,” she whispered.
“Did you see that?”
Mr. Reign stood.
Tears ran down his face.
“She found the nine.”
Commissioner Kovac took the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Nyla Ashby.”
The crowd roared.
“Daughter of Walter Ashby, the man who built every inch of this room.”
Theo applauded until his hands hurt.
Trey remained beside the table.
He looked as though somebody had erased the future he had expected.
Commissioner Kovac turned toward Trevor.
“A switched ball in a sanctioned match.”
Then toward Trey.
“This room loses its tour license tonight pending full review.”
Trey snapped.
“You can’t do that.”
“I can.”
“This is my house!”
Kovac looked around.
“Your house was built by her father.”
Trey’s face turned red.
He pointed toward the car keys.
“That car is worth more than your whole life.”
Nyla took them.
“Then I’ll sell it.”
“For what?”
She looked toward the lathe.
“To buy back a little of his.”
Sienna suddenly stared at her phone.
“Trey.”
“What?”
“My sponsor contact.”
She swallowed.
“Glowlux just ended your contract.”
Trey turned toward Trevor.
“You said she was nobody.”
Trevor looked at Nyla.
Then at the Ashby plaque.
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“I said she was a waitress.”
Trey cursed.
Sienna lowered the phone.
He snapped:
“Turn that thing off.”
For the first time all night, nobody obeyed him.
When the crowd finally left, Theo stood near the old bar.
Trey approached.
He looked exhausted.
No cameras followed.
No friends.
No cheering.
“I fired the only honest man in this room.”
Theo looked at him.
“I was wrong.”
Theo nodded toward Nyla.
“Then tell her.”
Trey approached her.
She was removing Walter’s lathe from the display with Commissioner Kovac’s authorization.
“Mrs. Ashby.”
She looked up.
“I’m sorry.”
“For which part?”
He had no answer.
Nyla smiled faintly.
“I don’t mind kneeling, Mr. Langford.”
He frowned.
“My father knelt at his bench every day.”
She looked toward the floor where Trey had made her pick up nine balls.
“The problem wasn’t me being on my knees.”
She met his eyes.
“It was you thinking that made me less than you.”
Trey looked away.
There was nothing left to say.
He handed her the final paperwork for the lathe and wall plaque.
