Five minutes later, Emma was escorted to our smallest conference room, the one with the uncomfortable chairs.
After the board meeting, I took my time reviewing contracts before finally heading down to meet her.
She’d been waiting two hours. Her perfect blowout slightly wilted. Her Prada bag clutched like a shield.
“Really, Ally?” she burst out as I entered. “You couldn’t have security tell them who I am? Your own sister?”
“They know exactly who you are.” I sat down. “That’s why they followed protocol.”
She deflated slightly.
“Mom’s crying, you know. Dad hasn’t gone to work. They feel betrayed.”
“Betrayed?” I raised an eyebrow. “By what? My success, my independence, or the fact that they can’t take credit for it?”
“It’s not like that. We’re family. We should have been part of this.”
“Like you made me part of your life? All those family dinners where you and James talked about your achievements? Those charity galas where Mom introduced you as ‘my successful daughter’ and me as ‘Alexandra. She’s finding herself.’”
Emma flinched.
“That’s not fair.”
“We didn’t know because you never asked. You were too busy feeling superior to actually see what I was building.”
“And now?” She gestured around. “Now that we know, can’t we start over? James would love to collaborate.”
“Ah, yes. James.”
I pulled out my tablet, opening his pitch history.
“Three failed startups, two SEC warnings for questionable trading practices, and a trust fund that’s dwindling faster than his excuses. That James?”
Her face reddened.
“How did you—”
“I know everything about everyone who tries to do business with my company, including the fact that he’s been bad-mouthing me to potential investors for two years. Amateur hour, I believe he called it.”
Emma’s designer bag slipped from her fingers.
“He wouldn’t.”
“The recordings are quite clear.”
I stood up.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a company to run.”
“Wait.”
She grabbed my arm.
“What do you want? An apology? Fine. I’m sorry. We’re all sorry. Just don’t shut us out.”
I looked at her perfectly manicured hand on my blazer sleeve. The same blazer she’d mocked last night.
“I don’t want anything from you, Emma. That’s the point. I built all of this without you, without our parents, without anyone’s approval or support. And that’s exactly how I’ll continue.”
“But… but what about family?”