I Was Publicly Shamed Over a Spilled Glass of Wine—Until a Billionaire Stood Up and Said My Name

enough to recognize that he was strategizing, planning how to regain control of a situation that had publicly slipped from his grasp.

But my mind kept drifting backward to 1985, to a time when I was eighteen years old and believed in happy endings.

I’d been working part-time at the campus bookstore while studying English literature at Eastfield Community continue reading …