Priya did not move. She looked at me, her face pale, waiting for my signal.

“Do not touch that keyboard, Priya,” I said.

Helen glared at Priya, her eyes flashing with anger.

“She works for Solar Reach, which is funded by Mitchell money,” Helen said.

“Priya, do what I told you, or you will find yourself blacklisted from every office in Palo Alto.”

“She works for me,” I said, stepping between Helen and Priya.

“And she answers to me.”

The silence in the room grew heavy, punctuated only by the distant sound of applause from the main hall.

The keynote dinner was ending, and the guests would soon be spilling out into the corridors.

I looked down at my hands.

They were shaking, but not from fear.

It was a deep, burning anger that had been building for years.

Every dinner, every holiday, every family milestone had been a transaction.

Every gesture of support from my parents had come with a hidden invoice.

“This is your last chance, Sarah,” Helen said, her voice dropping to a deadly quiet register.