The New Year’s Eve Ban That Backfired: When Family Learned Who I Really Was
My phone buzzed just as I was signing papers that would move mountains—literally. The Sterling Heights development contract sat before me, worth $47 million in commercial real estate that would reshape an entire district of Chicago. The vibration against my mahogany desk was jarring, cutting through the focused silence of my corner office like a fire alarm.
I glanced down at the screen, annoyed at the interruption during such a critical moment. The message preview from my mother was short, but it hit like a demolition ball to the chest:
Morgan, don’t come to New Year’s Eve this year. Tyler thinks you bring tension.
It’s better if you sit this one out. For a moment, the fountain pen trembled in my grip. I read the words again, trying to make sense of the absurdity.
Tyler. My sister Britney’s new husband of exactly three months. A man who’d known me for a cumulative total of maybe six hours over scattered family dinners.
Apparently, that microscopic window of exposure was sufficient for him to diagnose me as the root of all family atmospheric disturbance. If only he knew what he was really dealing with. Instead of firing back a paragraph of defensive outrage, or calling my mother to demand an explanation that would inevitably turn into a shouting match, I did what I always do when people try to push me around.
I capped my pen with a decisive click, placed the phone face-down on the cool leather of my desk blotter, and looked up at my assistant. “Jenna, let’s reschedule the rest of the afternoon. I need to review the structural integrity reports for the Skyline project.”
“Is everything alright, Ms.
Hayes?” Jenna asked, her sharp eyes catching the slight tightening around my jaw—a tell I thought I’d mastered years ago. “Everything’s fine,” I lied smoothly. “Just a minor scheduling conflict that requires attention.”
Because here’s the thing about me: when people try to push me out, I don’t scream and I don’t argue.
I move. I strategize. I am Morgan Hayes, thirty-one years old, Director of Commercial Operations at Falcon Ridge Real Estate Group.
I am the youngest woman to ever manage a portfolio worth more than half a billion dollars. My signature moves mountains—literally. When I approve a project, skylines change.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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