Fang asked whether the contributor note should mention the dinner wager. Nia said no. The book's attribution did not exist because Miles challenged a waitress. It existed because people translated and revised a novel. The dispute could be explained in a separate publisher's statement where relevant. Lin agreed. A literary work should not become a souvenir of someone else's humiliation, even when that humiliation exposed an important truth. Clara wrote the decision down. For Nia, it felt like removing a stranger's hand from the title page. Miles would remain part of her life story whether she liked it or not. He did not need to become part of every introduction to the book.
At the club, Nia resumed a full evening service. A couple recognized her and asked whether she would say something in Mandarin for their video. She declined politely. They accepted and ordered soup. The interaction was so uneventful that she almost laughed. Later, a donor complained that staff were becoming oversensitive. Beatrice asked him to describe the actual service problem. He could not identify one beyond a refusal to perform. The manager ended the discussion without making Nia explain herself again. Dani raised an eyebrow from across the room. The policy review had not transformed human behavior. It had given someone an ordinary way to stop rewarding its worst version.
Nia asked to reduce her shifts once the revised translation work began. Beatrice offered a flexible arrangement with clear notice requirements. She did not describe the change as Nia escaping service. The club needed good staff, and literary work remained unpredictable. Nia might continue some events because they suited her schedule and paid reliably. The manager treated that as a practical choice rather than a failure to capitalize on fame. Nia appreciated it. She had watched strangers turn her uniform into evidence that something had gone wrong with her life. It had also been how she paid rent, learned patience, made friends, and happened to enter the room where the book waited.
One afternoon, Oliver sent the corrected metadata feed for review. Nia read her name beside the title and cried over a spreadsheet, which Jordan later declared the most professional thing he had ever heard. She checked spelling, order, role labels, and dates before approving. Several retailer pages updated within days. Others did not. Oliver kept a log and followed up. One bookshop apologized for overlooking the correction and replaced its event notice. Another needed a call from the distributor. Credit became real through repetition, not a single ceremonial announcement. Nia saved screenshots, then stopped checking for the evening. Her name could exist accurately while she was not watching it.
Clara called to discuss the rescheduled launch. She proposed a conversation about the novel with Lin, Nia, an independent moderator, and appropriate acknowledgment of Adrian's contribution. Adrian would not attend the first event while the public correction was being established. Future appearances could be considered separately. Nia wanted time to decide. The last room that asked her to speak had demanded proof before listening. This room would be different in purpose, but her body did not entirely believe that yet. Clara said an invitation could remain an invitation. Nia did not have to say yes immediately to demonstrate she deserved it. She thanked her and asked for the moderator's name.
Chapter 12
A Seat She Could Decline
The moderator was Mara Singh, an essayist known for asking authors questions they could not answer by reciting jacket copy. She spoke with Nia before confirming the event structure. Nia wanted the novel discussed seriously, the attribution corrected clearly, and the evening not built around replaying the dinner as entertainment. Mara agreed. She would address the dispute because pretending it did not exist would be evasive. Then she would ask about the work. Nia asked whether Miles would speak. Clara said his foundation had no role in the revised launch beyond its ordinary purchase order, which was under separate review. The publisher would host the event in a public library auditorium.
Nia accepted, then regretted it for an hour. Public attention had made her feel both less alone and strangely invaded. She could explain syntax to a room of students without difficulty. She could not predict what would happen when an audience expected vindication. Helen suggested practicing answers to three questions: what she did, what had been corrected, and what remained private. The boundaries would help when someone asked an intrusive question with a flattering preface. Dani volunteered to play the worst audience member imaginable. Jordan said he could do better and arrived with a list. Nia endured their performance over dinner and laughed enough to discover which answers she actually wanted to give.