Chapter 3 - The Monday Morning Aftershock
The luxury wedding in Vermont ended, but the corporate fallout began the second the markets opened on Monday morning.
I was back in my apartment in Boston—a beautiful, minimalist loft overlooking the harbor that I had purchased entirely in cash, despite my family's assumption that I was struggling to pay rent on a tiny studio. I sat at my marble kitchen island, a cup of artisan coffee in hand, watching my phone light up with an endless stream of notifications.
Most of them were from my mother, leaving increasingly frantic voicemails, and Nicholas, sending walls of text messages that oscillated between furious demands and desperate apologies. But the call I chose to answer came from a private number at exactly 9:00 AM.
"Jenna, it's Emmett," the voice said on the other end. "I hope you've recovered from the dinosaur debates."
"I have," I smiled, leaning back against the counter. "Though I think the little boy in the bow tie still suspects your logic on the semi-truck."
Emmett laughed. "He might be right. Listen, Jenna, I'm calling because of a rather amusing development. A senior partner from Apex Investment Group—your brother's firm—just contacted my administrative assistant. They are practically begging for an emergency meeting regarding our upcoming logistics acquisition. Apparently, Nicholas Vance listed himself as the 'primary family liaison' to Stewart Global Media."
I rubbed my temples. "He actually did that? I told him explicitly on Saturday night that I wouldn't interfere."
"He did," Emmett said, his tone turning professional. "He claimed in the official email that you had personally vetted their proposal and requested that I take the meeting as a familial courtesy. Jenna, I value our partnership above almost everything else. If you want me to take this meeting, I will. But if he is using your name without your consent, I will terminate our interactions with Apex permanently."
A cold wave of resolve washed over me. Nicholas hadn't just ignored my warning; he had actively exploited my identity to advance his own position, gambling on the assumption that I would remain the quiet, submissive sister who wouldn't dare cause a scene in the corporate world.
"He is using my name, Emmett," I said clearly. "I have not seen their proposal, nor did I authorize him to represent me or my agency."
"Understood," Emmett replied, and I could hear the sound of him typing on his keyboard. "Consider it handled. Also, we need to finalize the quarterly press strategy by Thursday. Are you available for dinner tomorrow night? Somewhere much quieter than Table Nineteen."
"Tomorrow night works perfectly, Emmett. Let's do the usual spot in the Back Bay."
Ten minutes after I hung up with Emmett, my phone rang again. This time, it was Nicholas. I decided to pick up.
"Jenna! What did you do?" he screamed into the receiver, his voice trembling with a terrifying blend of rage and panic. "What the hell did you say to Emmett Stewart?"
"Good morning to you too, Nicholas," I said calmly.
"Don't play games with me!" he yelled. "My managing partner just called me into his office. He was white as a sheet. Stewart Global Media just sent a formal cease-and-desist letter to our compliance department! They explicitly cited me for ethical violations and fraudulent representation! I've been suspended pending an internal investigation, Jenna! My career is on the line!"
"You brought this on yourself, Nicholas," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I told you in the courtyard not to use my name. You thought you could lie your way into a multi-million dollar account by pretending I was your insider asset. You underestimated me again."
"We're family, Jenna! You're supposed to protect me!"
May you like
"You didn't protect me when you tried to humiliate me in front of the most powerful people in your industry," I reminded him. "You wanted a separation between my world and yours. Congratulations, Nicholas. You got exactly what you asked for."
I hung up the phone before he could reply, leaving him to face the corporate hurricane he had manufactured all on his own.
