At My Sister’s $5 Million Wedding, My Father Poured Wine Down My Dress and Called Me a Pathetic Spinster on the Microphone. I Made One Phone Call
“It’s silk,” I said quietly.
“And I’ll do my best.” I did not tell her that I had, that very week, moved more institutional power across three time zones before breakfast than the entire Fairchild family had touched in a generation.
It was not yet time.
But I confess I enjoyed knowing it, standing there in my “polyester,” while Evelyn instructed me on the importance of the people my sister was about to be financially chained to.
Chapter 10 — The Golden Entrance