The text came through at 3:47 p.m. on December 28th, right as I was reviewing Q4 projections with my CFO, Marcus.
“Sarah, don’t come to New Year’s Eve. My fiancée is a corporate lawyer at Davis and Poke.
She can’t know about your situation.”
I stared at the message for a moment. My situation. That’s what they were calling it now. Before I could respond, the family group chat exploded.
“Boom.”
“Marcus is right, honey.
This is important for his career.”
“Dad, Amanda’s from a very prestigious family. We need to make the right impression.”
“Sister Jenna, maybe next year when you figured things out.”
I watched the messages pile up. Three dots appeared under Marcus’s name again.
“Amanda thinks I come from a family of achievers.
Having you there would complicate that narrative. You understand, right?”
My executive assistant, David, knocked on my glass door.
“Miss Chin, the board wants to move up tomorrow’s strategy session. They’re concerned about the Davis and Poke timeline.”
I held up one finger.
David nodded and stepped back. The group chat kept rolling, warm little knives dressed as concern.
“Um, we’re doing this for you, too, sweetie. You wouldn’t feel comfortable anyway.”
“Amanda’s friends are all Ivy League lawyers and investment bankers.”
“Dad, her father is a senior partner at Sullivan and Cromwell.
These are serious people.”
I took a breath and typed two words: Me understood. Marcus thanked me for being cool about it and promised he’d make it up to me. I set my phone down and looked at David through the glass. He was holding a leather portfolio with our company logo embossed in gold—Meridian Technologies.
“Tell the board 2 p.m.
works,” I said, “and confirm that Davis and Poke is sending their full M&A team to the January 2nd meeting.”
“Already confirmed,” David said. “Senior partners, associates—the works. It’s their biggest potential client acquisition of the year.”
I smiled.
Perfect. It wasn’t always like this. Growing up, I was the family disappointment in training.
Marcus was the golden child—varsity athlete, student government, early acceptance to Princeton. Jenna was the social butterfly who married a dermatologist and joined the country club. And then there was me, the quiet one, the quirky one, the one who spent weekends coding in her room instead of going to parties.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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