“Jenna, may I tell them what you did for my company last week?”
Emmett Stewart’s question traveled across the silent ballroom.
Nicholas stood behind him with one hand still extended, as though he could not accept that the billionaire had walked past it.
My mother stared at me from the front of the room.
My father’s proud smile had disappeared.
Around us, investors and executives waited for my answer.
I looked at Emmett.
Our contracts were strict.
He knew that better than anyone.
He was not asking because he needed permission legally.
He was asking because he respected the discretion that had made him trust me in the first place.
“You can tell them enough,” I said.
Emmett nodded.
Then he turned toward Nicholas.
“Your sister wrote the keynote address I delivered at the Global Technology Summit last week.”
Nobody moved.
Nicholas blinked once.
Then he laughed.
It was the same laugh he had used near the entrance when he told me Great-Aunt Beatrice and I had something in common.
“That’s not possible,” he said.
Emmett’s expression remained calm.
“I assure you, it is.”
Nicholas looked around the room, searching for someone who would join his disbelief.
“She writes a blog,” he said.
“Small lifestyle pieces.
Personal reflections.
That sort of thing.”
“I know about her blog,” Emmett replied.
“I also know she has written executive communications for some of the most demanding leaders in my industry.”
My father turned toward me.
“You do?”
Before I could answer, Nicholas stepped closer to Emmett.
“There must be some confusion.
Maybe she edited a paragraph or helped with formatting.”
Emmett leaned back in the child-sized chair and studied him.
“There is no confusion.”
He picked up his phone but did not unlock it.
“Three days before the summit, my communications team had a speech that was technically accurate and completely lifeless.
Our company was under pressure.
Analysts were questioning our direction.
Employees were nervous.
Investors were waiting to hear whether we had a plan or merely a collection of excuses.”
Several people near the VIP table nodded.
They knew exactly what he was describing.
Emmett continued.
“Jenna read the draft, listened to what I was actually trying to say, and rebuilt the entire address overnight.”
Nicholas’s mouth tightened.
“That speech was everywhere,” one guest whispered.
Another answered, “The market moved the next morning.”
Emmett heard them.
“Yes,” he said.
“It did.”
The boy with the crooked bow tie stopped coloring and looked from Emmett to me.
“You made his company go up?” he asked.
A few nervous laughs broke the silence.
“I helped him explain what the company was doing,” I said.
