Not the backup plan.
The one they underestimated.
And Mia’s engagement party, that was the perfect place to start.
I knew it would be extravagant before I even got the invitation.
She’d always dreamed big.
Our parents enabled her delusions of grandeur, but truthfully, she was good at spinning perception.
Everything had to be a moment with her, a spectacle.
From the captioned SUV post to her pastel themed birthday brunches, Mia had turned her entire life into a curated Instagram feed.
And now she was engaged to a guy named Derek, who worked as a creative strategist for a brand I couldn’t even find on Google.
I did some digging and figured out what that meant.
Freelance, mostly unemployed, and couch surfing before he met Mia.
I didn’t say anything at first.
It wasn’t my business until I got a call from my cousin Rachel.
Rachel had always been one of the few family members who actually saw me.
We weren’t super close growing up, but she was the type who asked how I was really doing and actually listened.
She’d skipped the anniversary dinner due to work travel, and she hadn’t been at any of the follow-up events since.
But she called out of the blue one Thursday afternoon.
“I heard about what happened,” she said. “At the dinner, the seat thing.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Word gets around.”
“It was cruel, Connor. And honestly, not surprising. I’ve watched how they treat you. I’m just sorry it’s taken this long for everyone else to notice.”
We talked for nearly an hour.
I told her about the envelope, about the SUV, about the vacation fund, and that’s when she dropped something I hadn’t heard before.
“You know, Dererick asked your dad for money, right?”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Yeah. Apparently, he’s been floating this startup idea, some kind of influencer brand studio or whatever, and he asked Uncle Mark for a small investment. I only heard because Mom overheard your mom ranting about how Connor probably wouldn’t mind covering it if he was asked nicely.”
I sat back in my chair, stunned.
“They really said that?”
“Yep. They assumed you’d come around, that you’d feel guilty and swoop in eventually, like you always do.”
That was the moment it all clicked.
The party wasn’t just a celebration.
It was a setup for me.
Another chance to reel me in, get me on the hook, and have me finance someone else’s fantasy while they smiled through it like it was normal.
I wasn’t going to let that happen, but I wasn’t just going to ignore the invite either.
No, that would be too easy, too.
Instead, I was going to show up.
Not physically, not in a suit, but in a way they’d never forget.
It started with a guest list.
I asked Rachel if she had access to it and she did.
Mia had proudly shared it with a few family members to show off how exclusive the event would be.
I got a copy within the hour.
82 names.
I started scanning through them.
Family, friends, extended relatives, some of Derek’s people.
Then I noticed one entry that made me pause.
Mr. and Mrs. Hastings.
That name sounded familiar.
I dug back through my mental archives.
And then I remembered back in college I’d interned at a boutique wealth management firm.
One of our clients had been a quiet but powerful investor named Peter Hastings.
Owned shares in a dozen tech companies and had a reputation for backing passion projects if he liked the people behind them.
Apparently Dererick had been pitching to him too.
Now that was interesting.
I reached out to an old colleague from that internship.
We hadn’t spoken in a while but I shot my shot.
“Hey,” I texted. “Random question. Is Peter Hastings still working with Elite Private Investments?”
The reply came within minutes.
“He is. In fact, he’s coming to speak at our alumni mixer next month. Why?”
“Just wanted to be sure,” I replied.
I made a note.