Chapter 2 - The Shift of Power
If a bomb had detonated beneath the head table, the shockwaves could not have been more destructive.
Every camera, every eyes, every whispered conversation in that luxury estate flipped instantly from the bride and groom to the farthest corner of the ballroom.
My mother looked like she was going to faint into her lobster bisque. My father stood frozen, holding his wine glass halfway to his mouth, staring at me as if I had suddenly sprouted wings and flown to the moon.
Nicholas stood paralyzed beside Table Nineteen. His eyes were wide, bloodshot with shame and mounting terror.
“Mr. Stewart... please,” Nicholas whimpered, leaning down, his voice trembling. “This is a misunderstanding. Jenna didn't tell us... I mean, she never said she worked for you! We thought... we just wanted her to be comfortable!”
“Comfortable?” Emmett picked up the dragon drawing I had just finished for Parker. He looked at the green flames, then looked up at Nicholas with an expression of pure disgust. “You banished your own sister to the kid's table because you thought her presence would embarrass you in front of investors. Do you know what embarrasses me, Mr. Vance?”
Nicholas swallowed hard, his face flushed an ugly red. “W-what, sir?”
“People who treat their own family like disposable garbage just to climb a ladder,” Emmett said flatly. “And by the way, those venture capital partners you placed at the front table? They’re pitching me a funding round on Monday. I think I’ll cancel the meeting.”
Nicholas gasped aloud. “No! Mr. Stewart, please! That funding round is my entire promotion!”
“Then I suggest you run back to your bride,” Emmett said, turning his back on my brother completely, “and let me enjoy my dragon drawing with Jenna.”
Nicholas backed away slowly, looking like a man who had walked into his own execution.
Little Parker looked up at Emmett, clutching his teddy bear. “Are you a giant?”
Emmett’s stern face melted into a genuine, warm smile—a smile I had rarely seen during our late-night speech-editing sessions. “I might be, kiddo. Can I have a fry?”
“Only if you draw a dragon too,” Parker demanded, sliding a red crayon across the white paper tablecloth.
“Deal,” Emmett said, rolling up his designer tuxedo sleeves and taking the crayon.
I leaned back in my chair, watching this incredible, terrifying billionaire draw a terribly lopsided dragon for a four-year-old, and I couldn't help the dry chuckle that escaped my lips.
“You didn't have to do that,” I whispered.
“Are you kidding?” Emmett murmured, keeping his eyes on the paper. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to ruin your brother’s ego since I read his company’s prospectus last month. He’s an arrogant lightweight, Jenna. But more importantly... why didn't you tell me this was your family?”
“Because my family thinks I write $50 travel blogs for coffee money,” I said quietly, taking a sip of my orange juice box. “And I liked it that way.”
“Well,” Emmett said, drawing a lumpy wing on the paper, “the secret’s out now. Look behind you.”
I turned around.
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A line of five senior tech executives, including two venture capitalists Nicholas had been begging for a meeting with all year, were standing four feet away from Table Nineteen, holding their champagne glasses, waiting patiently for a chance to speak to the billionaire sitting at the kids’ table.
And every single one of them was looking at me with absolute, profound respect.
