My mother’s eyes ran over my faded denim jacket and scuffed sneakers.
She didn’t look happy to see her daughter.
She looked embarrassed to be seen with her.
“Oh, Jasmine,” she sighed, setting down her wine glass.
“Is that what you’re wearing?
We told you this was a celebration.”
“My car broke down,” I lied smoothly, pulling out the empty chair at the foot of the table.
“I had to take an Uber.”
Hunter snorted, slicing into his steak.
“UberX?
Looks like you couldn’t spring for a black car with that Forbes money.”
“Enough,” my father commanded.
He didn’t ask how I was.
He didn’t ask about the car.
He gestured to the empty setting in front of me.
“Sit down.
We’re already ordering dessert.
We have business to discuss.”
I sat.
My hands remained folded in my lap, refusing to engage with the tactical politeness of the napkin or the water glass.
I just calibrated the room.
There were little things people miss when they’re emotionally hungry.
The way my father didn’t stand.
The way my mother didn’t reach for my hand.
The way Hunter’s eyes kept flicking to my jacket like it offended him.
They didn’t see me.
They saw what I represented.
And today, I had decided to let them.
“We saw the article,” Richard said, getting straight to the point.
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the white tablecloth.
“185 million.
That’s a serious number, Jasmine.
It’s good to see you finally applying the work ethic we instilled in you.”
We instilled.
The audacity was almost impressive.
There was a time when that sentence would have made me glow.
There was a time when I would have apologized for my success, just to keep it from sounding like it belonged to me.
Now it just sounded like theft.
“We have an opportunity,” he continued, his voice shifting into a practiced salesman cadence.
“Sterling Markets is evolving.
We’re launching Sterling Select.
It’s a gourmet hyperlocal delivery service.
We’re going to disrupt the market, compete directly with Amazon Fresh, but for the elite demographic.”
He slid a glossy folder across the table.
It skimmed over the linen and stopped just short of my hand.
“We have the infrastructure,” Hunter added, talking around a mouthful of beef.
“We have the brand recognition.
All we need is the fuel to light the rocket.”
“How much?” I asked.
My voice was flat.
“Seed capital,” Richard said, waving a hand dismissively as if the number were trivial.
“3.2 million.
We’ll structure it as a convertible note.
You get equity, we get the liquidity to upgrade the fleet and launch the app before the holiday rush.”
3.2 million.
They said it the way some people say a little help.
Like it was a favor I should be honored to offer.
They weren’t asking for a loan to fix a roof.
They were asking for a fortune to fund a fantasy.
I didn’t open the folder.
I looked at Hunter.
“Who is developing the logistics software for this delivery fleet?”
Hunter rolled his eyes.
“We have a vendor.
It’s handled.”
“Which vendor?” I pressed.
“What’s their track record on last-mile perishables?
What’s your customer acquisition cost projected to be in the first quarter?”
I watched my father’s face during the questions.
His expression didn’t show curiosity.
It showed irritation.
He didn’t want details.
He wanted a check.
Hunter slammed his fork down.
The clatter echoed in the quiet room.
“God, you’re annoying,” he snapped.
“You always were.
You think because you got lucky with some tech app that you’re suddenly Warren Buffett.
You’re wearing dirty sneakers to a five-star steakhouse.
Jasmine, you should be grateful we’re even letting you in on the ground floor.
This is a favor to you.”
My mother nodded in agreement, sipping her $800 wine.
“Hunter is right, dear.
Yo Make również polubił
Sprzedałam obrączkę ślubną i ogoliłam głowę, żeby moja 9-letnia córka mogła przejść chemioterapię — ale słowo, którego użyła, wciąż mnie prześladuje
Umieść go w swoim domu na 1 godzinę, a nigdy więcej nie zobaczysz much, komarów ani karaluchów.v
Całkowicie naturalny „tajny” napój detoksykacyjny
Nanieś tylko 1 kroplę… Twoje plamy starcze znikną na zawsze