My family laughed when I arrived alone at my sister’s wedding, and my father made sure four hundred guests heard him say, “She couldn’t even find a date.”

Seven o'clock the following morning.

The rain from the night before had cleared, leaving the sky over Boston a crisp, icy blue.

I stood in the corner office on the forty-second floor of the Vance Global Holdings building, wearing a tailored navy-blue pantsuit, my hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Below me, the city stretched out toward the harbor, cold and bright in the morning sun.

Ethan sat at his heavy mahogany desk, reviewing three financial ledgers with his chief legal counsel, Marcus Vance—his younger brother.

The elevator doors at the end of the private hallway chimed.

My assistant, Sarah, walked in, looking slightly tense. "Colonel... I mean, Mr. Vance, Mrs. Vance. Arthur Sterling and his legal team are downstairs in the lobby. They don't have security clearance, but Mr. Sterling is causing a scene at the front desk."

Ethan didn't look up from his tablet. "How much of a scene?"

"He's telling the security guards that his daughter is being held against her will," Sarah reported dryly.

I let out a small laugh, setting my coffee cup down on the glass table. "Send him up, Sarah. But only Arthur and his lead attorney. The rest of his entourage stays in the lobby."

Five minutes later, the private elevator doors opened again.

Arthur Sterling stepped out.

In thirty-two years, I had never seen my father look so completely defeated. He wore the same suit from the night before, rumpled and stained with dry wine. His hair was disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, his skin grey and sagging.

Behind him walked his family attorney, David Miller—a man who had handled Arthur’s minor corporate legal matters for twenty years and currently looked like he wanted to be anywhere else on earth.

Arthur took three steps into the grand office, his eyes darting from Ethan to me.

"Jessi..." Arthur began, his voice hoarse, completely lacking its usual theatrical weight. "Thank God you're here. Tell these security guards to back off. We need to talk. Family to family."

"Sit down, Arthur," I said, gesturing to the two leather chairs across from Ethan’s desk.

Arthur swallowed hard, sinking into one of the chairs. His attorney sat beside him, opening a thin briefcase with trembling hands.

"Ethan... Mr. Vance," David Miller began, clearing his throat nervously. "My client understands that there were... personal misunderstandings at the event last night. But regarding the commercial debt transfer—"

"It wasn't a personal misunderstanding, David," Ethan interrupted, setting his tablet down on the desk with a sharp snap. "Your client publicly humiliated my wife. He physically pushed her into a fountain, mocked her in front of four hundred people, and used her personal financial generosity to fund a lifestyle his business could not support."

"I didn't push her!" Arthur protested weakly, his hands clutching the arms of the leather chair. "She slipped! It was an accident!"

"You held the microphone, Arthur," I said, walking over to stand beside Ethan’s desk. "You held the microphone and you laughed while I was underwater. You didn't reach down to help me up. You didn't even ask if I was hurt."

Arthur looked at me, his eyes wide with a desperate, pleading terror. "Jessi, I was wrong! Okay?! I admit it! I was arrogant! I made a bad joke! But you can't destroy Sterling Logistics over a bad joke! It’s my life’s work! It’s your sister’s future!"

"Sterling Logistics is already destroyed, Arthur," Ethan said flatly. "And it has nothing to do with your joke."