But that silence wouldn't last long. Gregory pulled Terrence away from the bar like a man dragging a life raft toward shore. His hand stayed on Terrence's elbow, not guiding, but gripping. The kind of grip that said, "Please, for the love of God, don't turn around and walk out that door." He led Terrence through a set of double doors into a private lounge just off the main ballroom.
Leather chairs, dim lighting, a mahogany table with a crystal decanter of whiskey that probably cost more than a used car. Gregory closed the doors behind them and immediately started talking. Terrence, I'm so sorry. I don't even know where to begin. Whatever Victoria said to you, she doesn't speak for me.
She doesn't speak for the company. She doesn't represent our values. Terrence stood by the window. He didn't sit down. He looked out at the Manhattan skyline, a thousand lights blinking against a black sky, and said nothing for a long moment.
Gregory. Yes. Your wife called me filthy. She said I smelled like a gutter. She told 300 people I was a roach.
And then she poured a glass of wine on me. Gregory's face collapsed. Not slowly, all at once, like a building imploding from the inside. She She poured wine on you. Red wine.
Chateau Margo, if I'm not mistaken, down the front of my suit. While looking me in the eye, Gregory pressed both hands against his forehead. His fingers were shaking. He walked in a tight circle, then stopped and turned back. Terrence, please.
The deal. Our entire company, our entire future is built on this partnership. Victoria doesn't she's not part of the business. She's She's your wife, Gregory. She carries your name.
She hosted this event under your foundation's banner, and she just told a black man he was garbage in front of every major power player in Manhattan. Gregory opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. Nothing came out. I'll pay for the suit. I'll buy you 10 suits.
100 suits. I'll issue a public apology tonight. Right now, on stage, I'll You think this is about a suit? The question landed like a hammer on glass. Gregory stopped pacing.
His shoulders dropped. For the first time, the full weight of what had happened seemed to settle on him. Not just the business implications, but the human ones. No, Gregory whispered. No, I know it's not about the suit.