My name is Madison. I’m 25, and on that morning, I genuinely believed—maybe, just maybe—my life was finally turning a corner. I’d landed an interview with an actual tech startup in our city, the kind of opportunity I had prayed for since college.
After grinding at retail jobs, babysitting shifts, serving tables, and scraping pennies for gas, I finally had one shot.
A job that could change everything. I woke up early, laid out my clothes on my bed, steamed my blazer, and practiced my answers in the mirror.
For once, I actually felt hope in my chest instead of dread. My younger sister, Chloe, strolled into my room without knocking, brushing her hair.
She had a Starbucks drink in one hand and sunglasses perched on her head—inside the house, naturally.
She always thought she was a celebrity. “I need you to take me to the mall by noon,” she said flatly, like giving a servant a daily instruction. “I can’t,” I said calmly, zipping my portfolio case.
“My interview is at 12:30 downtown.”
She blinked, as if the words confused her.
“No. Take me first.
I told my friends I’d be there. You can just call your little interview people and push it.”
I stared at her, stunned.
“You want me to cancel a job interview I waited months for, so you can go shop for makeup?”
She rolled her eyes dramatically.
“You’ve literally applied to a thousand jobs before. You’ll get another interview. My girls are only meeting today.” She walked out like the decree was signed.
I followed her downstairs.
“Chloe, I’m not missing this interview. No.”
She smirked.
“I’ll tell Dad.”
My stomach dropped instantly. She always weaponized him, a loaded gun she didn’t even have to aim.
Dad stomped into the kitchen two minutes later, summoned from the underworld.
His voice was already raised before he even finished crossing the room. “What’s this garbage I’m hearing? You’re refusing to take Chloe where she needs to go?”
“I have my interview today,” I said quietly.
“This is the first shot I’ve gotten.”
Dad laughed.
It was a mean, cruel, mocking sound. “Your sister actually has a real future.
She needs to connect socially. Those girls, their parents have money, connections.
They matter.”
My chest tightened.
So, my life, my goals, my opportunities don’t. He took two big steps, invading my space until his face was inches from mine. “Her future matters.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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