CHAPTER THREE — THE FAMILY MEETING
They called it a “family discussion.”
It felt more like a trial.
We met in the old Whitmore estate—the same house where I learned the difference between being raised and being valued.
Brielle arrived first, arms crossed, refusing to sit.
“You’re humiliating us,” she said immediately.
Mom placed a hand on the table. “Natalie, just reverse the freeze. We can fix this quietly.”
Fix this.
Like I had broken something.
My father finally spoke, quieter than I had ever heard him. “I made mistakes. But you don’t erase your own family.”
I laughed once—not out of humor, but disbelief.
“You didn’t lose power because I erased you,” I said. “You lost it because you gave it away piece by piece—and then tried to take mine when yours was gone.”
Brielle slammed her hand down. “All I wanted was a chance!”
I turned to her.
“You had three.”
Her mouth opened—but no words came.
I slid a document onto the table. “This is a settlement offer. You keep your personal assets. You walk away from corporate claims. No lawsuits. No countersuits.”
Mom stared at it like it was betrayal written in ink.
“And if we refuse?” she asked quietly.
I met her eyes.
“Then this becomes public.”
That changed the air completely.
May you like
Not anger anymore.
Fear.
