Story code: ST-000880
Part 3: Her Help Was Still Logged in Under Her Name
I didn’t answer Eli right away because I already knew I had to check the headset itself, and I did not want to do it with Janelle narrating over my shoulder.
The lobby music shifted to some glossy instrumental version of an old family cookout song while people drifted toward a slideshow wall. Janelle took one step closer to me and lowered her voice into that careful cousin tone that was somehow more threatening than when she went loud.
“Don’t do this in the middle of the reunion,” she said.
I kept my own voice flat. “Then stop doing it in the middle of the reunion.”
Her avatar smile stayed fixed, but her hand menus flickered on and off near her wrist. Host controls. Guest list. Access tools. She closed them so fast I might have missed it if I had not been staring straight at her.
I opened my system panel and finally checked the headset status. The menu took up half my view for a second, making the fountain and family photo wall blur behind it. Device name. Motion calibration. Room audio. Then the line I was looking for.
PRIMARY ACCOUNT: J. TORRES EVENT HOST PROFILE.
Under that, smaller text: GUEST SESSION ACTIVE.
I just stood there looking at it while digital applause broke out near the slideshow.
Eli sent, Well?
I typed back, It’s running under Janelle’s host profile.
His reply came fast. Then she can revoke your session whenever she wants.
That was the cleanest thing anybody had said all night.
I looked up. Janelle was watching my face instead of the room now. “You found the device panel,” she said.
I said, “You put me in the reunion on your host account.”
“It was the fastest way to get you in.”
“And the easiest way to keep me under your hand.”
She gave a short laugh. “Maya, please. You were the one having trouble.”
“I had an old headset in a box,” I said. “That is not the same as asking you to run me through your account and call it a favor for the next six months.”
Aunt Rene drifted a few feet closer, not close enough to join us, close enough to hear the shape of it. Eli stayed off to my left, silent, like he knew if he stepped in too hard Janelle would turn him into part of her speech.
Janelle lifted both hands in a little host gesture. “I sent you working equipment. I upgraded your access. I got you into the room. Those are facts.”
“Then say all the facts,” I said. “Say my attendance counted for your host threshold. Say the headset is still logged into your event profile. Say you can cut my access and call that help too.”
That landed harder than anything else I had said because it was narrow enough to be checked.
She spoke faster. “Everybody’s sessions route through the event. That’s normal. Sponsored guests are how these reunions work. You’re making this sound sinister because you don’t like hearing that someone carried you tonight.”
There it was again. Carried you.
Except now she had too many pieces in the air. The headset. The guest status. The attendance credit. The host threshold. Every time she tried to make herself sound more generous, another part of the setup sounded more controlled.
I said, “If it was just generosity, you wouldn’t need to keep reciting it.”
Her voice sharpened. “If you were grateful, I wouldn’t have to.”
Aunt Rene turned fully toward us at that. Not interrupting. Just looking back and forth with her avatar hands clasped too tightly in front of her.
I could feel the trap inside the room then. If I pushed this out loud, Janelle would keep talking until the details turned to soup. She was host here. She knew how to make a crowd hear tone instead of sequence. She would call me dramatic, say I was confused by the tech, and keep using the same polished voice until the whole thing sounded mutual.
That was when I understood exposing her to the room would only leave me standing in her lighting, on her account path, inside a headset tied to her profile.
So I stopped arguing where she was strongest.
I opened a private side channel to her.
We need to talk off the floor. Now.
Her eyes flicked down for a fraction of a second, following the incoming message indicator. Then she said aloud, too brightly, “Maya just needs a minute. First-time VR can be a lot.”
I ignored that and sent a second line.
Private audio room. If you refuse, I’m logging out and taking your headset off my network tonight.
That got her. She didn’t answer the room. She sent back, Fine. Hall B side lounge. Two minutes.
When she moved away, Eli stepped close enough for a direct message bubble to appear between us.
Don’t fight her in the main room, he wrote.
I typed, I’m not.
Then another message from him landed before I could close the pane.
If the headset is under her host profile, change your login the second you’re out.
I started toward the side lounge doors, and as I passed under the reunion banner, my guest badge pulsed again with the same ugly little label:
SPONSORED ATTENDANCE CREDIT: COUNTED.
For the first time all night, it read less like a charge against me and more like proof that Janelle had already taken what she wanted. All she was doing now was trying to collect twice.