But I did not go upstairs. I walked out through the back door, got into my car, and left.
By Sunday morning, my phone had forty-three missed calls from Marcus. Fifteen from Veronica. Five from Bradley.
I ignored them all from my downtown apartment — the one they never knew I owned.
Then came the voicemail that changed his tone.
“Stephanie,” Marcus said, his voice smaller and strained. “Mr. Morrison from Meridian called about Monday’s signing. He asked if you’d be there. Why would he ask that?”
Because clause 7.3 required NextGen’s CTO. And I was NextGen’s CTO.
Monday afternoon, the Four Seasons Emerald Ballroom was packed with two hundred VIP guests, cameras, investors, and a live stream for remote partners.
Marcus arrived with Veronica on his arm and Bradley trailing behind him. He told everyone the $50 million Meridian deal would make Young Construction a major player.
At the signing table, Meridian’s head lawyer stopped him before the final signature.
“We need to verify clause 7.3 compliance.”
Marcus smiled like it was nothing. “That’s handled.”
“No,” she said. “We need Stephanie Young, Chief Technology Officer of NextGen Solutions, to sign. Without her signature, this contract is void.”
The ballroom went silent. Marcus whispered, “Who?”
That was when I walked in wearing my power suit and my level-five NextGen security badge.
I shook James Morrison’s hand first. Then I turned to my father.
“Hello, Dad. I heard you need my signature.”
His face went white. The first thing Marcus looked at was the badge. Not my face. Not my eyes. The badge.
Level Five Security Clearance. NextGen Solutions. Stephanie Young, Chief Technology Officer.
For three years, he had lived in the same house with me, taken my money, taken my work, taken my silence, and never once asked what I actually did. Now two hundred people watched him find out from a plastic card clipped to my lapel.
“You’re the CTO?” he whispered.