acilitated by Mr. Davies with no explanation. "The President requests

Professional. But as I was about to leave, my assistant,

t. Your dress for tonight... it's ru

' s allies were petty, but this was chil

... plain. Serviceable, but a far cry from what one would wear to a State Dinner.

entials, impeccably arranged, were suddenly "flagged." A ju

lem, Ms. Carter. Your nam

Izzy, heavily pregnant now, was glowing, draped in diamonds and couture. Ethan, ever the magnate, paus

de like a common gatecrasher, Mr. Davies himself appeared. His

Ms. Carter. A c

ut the damage was done. Heads h

. I found my seat, thankfully at a less prominent tabl

zzy, and their coterie of D.C. elites, the syc

ping with false symp

n't recognize you. That dre

nt judgment. One of her friend

escending drawl meant only for me, but

ing to relevance, A

simple dress, the credential mix-up, were signs of my complete downfall. He saw me as a di