Stephanie Winston Wolkoff walked willingly into the viper’s nest (I apologize for this alliterative, twisted Dr. Seuss opening), but I still feel for her. The Daily Telegraph describes Melania and Me as a “spectacular exercise in icy revenge,” and it is that, but it comes from a place of deep hurt. Melania and Me is a high society pity party (the Met Gala of pity parties, if you will); no doubt some readers will find it grating. I spent most of the book marveling at what Wolkoff couldn’t (or wouldn’t) see: Melania Trump was never her friend. Truly, “a Trump is a Trump is a Trump.”