The Seat at Table Nineteen
I spent the next hour handing out juice boxes and drawing a massive dragon for the boy, whose name was Parker.
From my seat in the shadows, I could see my brother acting like he was king of the world while my parents beamed with pride at his success.
They’d spent years looking down on me, asking whether I was still “writing things on the internet,” while they praised Nicholas for knowing how to climb the social ladder.
They never understood that while Nicholas talked constantly, I was the one who listened and turned those observations into powerful words.
By the time I was twenty-six, I’d signed private contracts with some of the most influential people in the country, all of them happy to pay for my voice.
I made more money than my family could ever imagine, but I kept my success quiet, and they never bothered to ask the right questions.
I was finishing the wings on Parker’s dragon when I felt the whole energy of the ballroom shift toward the front doors.
Every conversation stopped as the guests turned to see that Emmett Stewart had finally arrived.