“Your real estate holdings,” my mother repeated faintly.
“Three commercial properties. Two residential. The house you thought I was underwater on? I paid cash.”
“But you never said.”
“You never asked,” I said. “You just assumed.”
More people were crowding the bar entrance now. I saw Jessica in her wedding dress, Marcus beside her, both staring at the television. The bride’s bouquet hung forgotten in Jessica’s hand.
“Oh my God,” Jessica said. “Ethan, you’re the Fintech Solutions guy.”
“You’ve heard of it?” I asked.
“Marcus’s firm uses your algorithms,” she said, sounding dazed. “We were just talking about Fintech Solutions last week. He said it was revolutionary. He said the founder was a genius.”
Marcus was staring at me with new recognition.
“You’re Morrison? Holy… Your trading predictions saved us $40 million last quarter.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said.
Jessica looked at her mother, my aunt.
“You didn’t invite him because you thought he’d be embarrassing.”
“We didn’t know,” my mother’s voice was defensive now. “How were we supposed to know? He never told us.”
“I tried,” I said, and my voice was harder than I’d intended. “Five years ago, I told you I was building something important. You told me I was throwing my life away.”
“You dropped out of business school.”
“To build a business,” I finished. “Funny how that works.”
The CNN segment was ending, cutting to commercial, but the damage was done. Every person in that bar entrance had seen. Every wedding guest who’d been watching the news, the staff, the bartender who’d served us $400 scotch, was looking at me with new respect.
“Ethan.” My father stepped forward. “Son, I think we need to talk.”
“Do we?” I asked. “What’s there to talk about? You didn’t want me at the wedding because I’d embarrass Jessica. Mission accomplished. I’m not at the wedding. I’m at the bar.”
“You could have told us,” my mother said, and she actually sounded hurt. “All these years, you let us think—”
“Let you?” I laughed, and it came out bitter. “Mom, I told you Forbes mentioned my company. You asked if they might hire me. I told you I bought a house. You said I was probably in debt. What exactly should I have said? By the way, I’m worth nine figures. Please stop treating me like a failure?”
“We never said you were a failure,” my father protested.
“You didn’t invite me to my own cousin’s wedding because my situation would be awkward,” I said. “What would you call that?”
Jessica stepped forward, still clutching her bouquet.
“Ethan, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. If I’d known—”
“You would have invited me?” I asked gently. “Or you would have wanted my business connections?”
She flushed.
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
Marcus cleared his throat.
“Mr. Morrison. Ethan. I’d love to discuss your algorithms in more detail. Perhaps we could set up a meeting.”
“Of course you would,” Raj said from beside me. His voice was pleasant but cold. “Now that you know what he’s worth.”
The crowd in the doorway was growing. More wedding guests drawn by the commotion. I saw Marcus’s parents, the woman in Chanel, looking scandalized. Bridesmaids and groomsmen. Everyone staring.
This was Jessica’s moment. Her perfect wedding. Her perfect day.
And I was ruining it just by existing.
“I should go,” I said, standing.
“Ethan, wait,” my mother started.
“Congratulations on the wedding, Jessica,” I interrupted. “I hope you and Marcus are very happy together.”
I pulled out my wallet and dropped $500 bills on the bar for our tab and the trouble. Raj and I walked toward the exit. The crowd parted for us, probably more out of shock than respect, but I’d take it.
We were almost to the hotel’s front entrance when I heard running footsteps behind us.
“Ethan. Ethan, wait.”
I turned.
Amanda was hurrying after us, her bridesmaid dress hiked up so she wouldn’t trip.
“What?” I asked, more wearily than angrily.