He did not retrieve it.
Willa reached the podium.
Placed the iPad down.
Looked over the room.
Her eyes found Garrett.
Held him for two seconds.
Not dramatically.
Not triumphantly.
Simply long enough to make clear that she knew where he was.
Then she looked away.
“Good afternoon.”
The room quieted.
“I had a different speech prepared.”
She paused.
“Forty-two slides.”
A few people laughed.
“Market analysis. Capital cycles. Portfolio construction. Artificial intelligence infrastructure. Founder discipline.”
She looked toward the screen behind her.
It remained blank.
“I deleted it.”
Silence.
“Instead, I’d like to tell you about my morning.”
Now nobody moved.
“I arrived at this summit at eight forty-five.”
Willa's voice remained controlled.
“I sat in a chair in the VIP lounge and opened a pitch deck.”
Garrett stared straight ahead.
“Within twenty minutes, a founder approached me and demanded that I leave the chair.”
A murmur.
“He told me that people like me did not belong in the investor section.”
The room tightened.
“He described me as poor. He questioned whether I could possibly be an investor. He suggested I might have stolen my invitation.”
Tessa stopped recording.
Then, after a second, raised the phone again.
Willa continued.
“His colleague filmed part of the interaction and posted it online as entertainment.”