Chapter 5 - The Mastermind Revealed
“It was Jenna,” Emmett said softly, the words dropping like lead weights onto the marble floor.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Across the room, my mother dropped her champagne flute. It shattered against the floor with a sharp, explosive crash, spraying glass and bubbly across her designer shoes, but she didn’t even flinch. She just stared at me, her mouth hanging open, her face completely drained of color. My father gripped the edge of the head table so hard his knuckles turned white.
“No,” Nicholas whispered, backing away, shaking his head in frantic denial. “No, that’s impossible. She... she writes a lifestyle blog! She posts pictures of coffee and cute notebooks! She lives in a two-bedroom apartment across town! She’s... she’s nothing!”
“A lifestyle blog,” Emmett repeated, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. He reached into his coat again and pulled out a thick, legal-bound document stamped with a gold embossed seal. He tossed it carelessly onto the children’s table, right on top of Parker’s coloring book.
“This is the exclusive strategic advisory contract for Stewart Technologies’ global expansion,” Emmett announced, his voice ringing across the hall. “Total valuation: forty-eight million dollars. And every single operational guideline, psychological framework, and brand narrative in this document was written, edited, and signed off by Jenna.”
He turned his gaze back to me, his expression softening just a fraction, a look of profound respect crossing his striking features.
“She’s not just a consultant, Nicholas. She’s my chief strategic partner. Without her, your brother-in-law’s firm—the one you’ve been bragging about landing for the past year—wouldn’t even have a meeting with my executive board.”
Nicholas looked as though he had been hit by a freight train. He looked at the contract, then at Emmett, and finally at me, sitting calmly at the kids' table among the crayons, plastic cups, and half-eaten chicken nuggets.
“Jenna...” Nicholas choked out, his voice trembling, his arrogant mask completely shattered, revealing a pathetic, desperate man underneath. “Jenna, please. Tell him... tell him it’s a joke. Tell him we’re family. You wouldn't ruin my wedding... our family... over a seating chart, right?”
I picked up my juice box, took a slow, deliberate sip through the straw, and set it back down.
“You told me I didn't fit the atmosphere, Nicholas,” I said quietly. “You told me I was embarrassing you in front of people who actually matter.”
May you like
I stood up from the tiny plastic chair, smoothing down the light blue dress he had forced me to buy.
“You were right. I don't belong here.”
