The rest built itself in increments too.

One of those early enterprise clients — a contact I’d made through my father — asked me to lead a complex restructuring under my own name.

I hesitated; for a decade I’d poured my strategy into the anonymous work of Warner’s ambition.

“I know who red-lined those contracts three years ago,” the client said.

“You don’t need a frontman.

You need your own stage.” I took the project, and I signed the paperwork as Roslyn Bristol for the first time in ten years, and I wept a little at how long it had been since I’d claimed a seat at a table.