“Has anyone considered what I want?” I asked softly.
“What you want hasn’t worked,” my mother snapped. “This is an intervention, Della. We’re offering you a lifeline.”
Chaos erupted. Screams of joy, hugs, and tears. Madison turned to me, her smile cold.
“This baby will inherit the family legacy,” she whispered, “and since you’ve chosen to be a failure, maybe you can contribute by providing free childcare. It would give you a purpose.”
I met her gaze—and smiled for the first time all night.
“I’d be honored to watch the baby,” I said, lying effortlessly.
They thought I was broken, their project. As the conversation shifted to Madison’s big meeting the next day, I listened, simmering.
“So, tell us,” Uncle Harold asked, lighting a cigar. “Who is this massive client?”
Madison paused for dramatic effect. “Tech Vault Industries.”
The name hit the room like a physical shockwave.
“$1.2 billion,” Madison corrected smugly. “And tomorrow, I’m meeting with their leadership to sign an exclusive consulting contract.”
I sipped my coffee, hiding the twitch of my lip. Trembling? Not from fear. From irony.
“Where is the meeting?” my father asked.
Madison checked her phone. “Oddly, not at their HQ. A subsidiary location downtown. 327 Oak Street.”
My blood ran cold. 327 Oak Street wasn’t a subsidiary—it was the bookstore where I ‘worked’… and the hidden entrance to my global headquarters. Madison was walking into my house.
“Oak Street?” Jessica mused. “Isn’t that the Arts District?”
“It’s right next door, actually,” I said evenly.
