“Listen, if I’d have known . . .”

“He covered well.”

“He can’t anymore. Not with all the comments on your article.”

Her pulse quickened. “Trolls are out already?”

“Some. But most are from people who have stories like yours. Pulse board already tweeted something about an investigation into him and the company.”

Everything had moved so fast, Lucy hadn’t had time to think about what would happen after. This was what she’d have hoped, right? Validation for everything. And yet all Lucy could feel was intense sorrow for everyone else, for the women Ryan targeted, for the ones speaking up and the ones not, and for everyone who might lose their jobs, the ones building a company on a foundation they’d had no way of knowing was a fraud.

“Will I be seeing you at Stanford?” Gavin asked.

Lucy shook her head.

“Too bad.” He tucked his hands in the pockets of his gray jeans. Paired with his white oxford, his clothes might have fooled Lucy that they were back in high school. But one look in his eyes, and what they’d been through let her know they weren’t in high school anymore.

Gavin started to leave and then spun back around. He slipped his backpack off his shoulder and dug out a bottle of champagne.

“Turns out, my celebration’s off.” He handed her the bottle and pointed toward the opposite end of the hall. “Stairs to the roof. Not a bad view.” He gave a half smile. “Assuming you already have company?”

Lucy slipped on her butterfly-frame sunglasses. “Tonight, Silicon Valley is a girls’ club.”

*   *   *

Like on day one, Maddie arrived first.

She and her brother shared the same constellation of freckles, the ones that had never lifted as high on Maddie’s cheeks as when she’d seen Danny in the audience.

Lucy handed her a plastic cup.

Maddie lifted her aviators to her head and eyed the bottle of champagne. “Your mom?”

Lucy snorted. “We’re not that close.”

Yet.

“Gavin,” Lucy said.

“Uh-huh.”

“No, really. He apologized. Sort of. Ryan used him too.”

That didn’t mean she’d forgiven him. Even if some part of her wanted to.

An explosion through the doorway drew their attention, and in came Delia in her round sunglasses, body bouncing as much as her curls.

Lucy put a cup in her hand, and Delia’s shoulders dropped. She removed her sunglasses. “Oh, I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“About Ryan?”

“Ryan? No, me. And Nishi. She offered me a job. Here. Can you believe it? I can stay and work and go to school at Mountain View U and . . . oh, oh . . .” Delia’s eyes widened. “You guys . . . you’re both . . . I couldn’t have done any of this without you and Nishi knows . . . but I mean, I’m sure she just needs programmers, and if—when—she needs—”