“What we’re seeing here,” Harold continued, “is a troubled young woman acting out—perhaps because of the announcement at Josephine’s graduation party. Sibling jealousy is—”

“Mr. Ashford,” Robert Hunter’s voice cut through like a gavel. “You’ll have an opportunity to respond, but Miss Ashford requested this time, and she’s entitled to use it,” he said.

Harold sat down. His expression promised consequences.

Josephine caught my eye and mouthed, “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

I looked at them both. My father. My sister. And I felt something shift inside me. Not anger. Something colder. Clearer.

They weren’t trying to protect me. They weren’t even trying to protect the company. They were trying to protect their version of the story. The version where I was nothing.